


Castaway

by itsme_JP



Category: Shefani
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-05-07 20:39:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14679072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsme_JP/pseuds/itsme_JP
Summary: And you were the wave, the wave, the waveThat washed it all, that washed it all away





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is very AU. It gets dark and angsty at times, but not all the time :)

Sometimes, it is the intermittent flicker of white light followed by the harsh snap of fuses popping in the electrical panels overhead.

Occasionally, it is the deathly creak of bending metal, or the smell of rancid smoke tickling his nostrils as plastic and fabric, and things unknown, burn around him.

But mostly, it is the blackness; the all-consuming, absolute pitch dark that makes it so he can’t see anything no matter how hard he strains his eyes. The sensation riddles him with panic, and causes him to flail and chase precious oxygen, until he finally wakes up in a cold sweat searching for a sliver of moon.

It’s a bone-chilling cycle, and admittedly, Blake Shelton can no longer sleep for any length of time without falling victim to one of these fragmented flashes. After all, they cement his new reality, and serve as a stark reminder of what happened to him only four, short nights ago…

* 

Blake is a man deeply ingrained in the oil and gas business. Or was at least, before he stupidly asked to take an unscheduled flight over his current project to clear his mind and push away some of the things he feels when his unattached lifestyle becomes too quiet for him. A tall, handsomely suited presence in every boardroom and bar, he is used to getting what he wants and he can only guess that that fateful, night time ride was no exception.

A shrill alarm.  
A pulsing red light signalling a mechanical error.  
Terrored glances.  
A last ditch effort to coax the twin-engine airplane into an emergency landing.

It’s all still a chaotic blur at best, but when Blake finally came to, he found himself battered and stranded on this tiny spot of land surrounded by unending waves of blue. He was miraculously spared, and his pilot was gone. Dead.

He peers out at the soft yellow horizon, now nudging up against the dark navy sky, from where he sits tucked away amongst some trees. His fingers wipe warily at his dewy nape while he silently curses himself again, for making such a reckless decision. He normally prides himself on being a level-headed guy, someone who can shut out emotion, but for some reason, his loneliness just became too much to handle. He shakes his head regrettably, realizing that his penchant for isolation could very well be his ultimate downfall.

Correction. Will be his ultimate downfall.

In all honesty, he doubts that anyone would care enough to look for him. He’s been his own island for way too long. He’ll be assumed lost at sea, and will be remembered fondly by many he presumes, but not intimately by anyone special. He sighs at the troubling thought while clutching at the remnants of a blanket he scavenged from the wreckage, wondering for a moment if it is even worth continuing the fight for his existence.

It certainly wasn’t always this way.

No, his Oklahoma upbringing was modest and thrifty, and full of love. He was appropriately armed with some of the survival tools one could only learn from time spent in the woods. His father taught him the intricacies of hunting, setting traps, fishing and navigating rugged land, and Blake was more than pleased to wear camouflage clothing and hone his bow skills as much as possible. His mother taught him how to cook his kill, and save pennies in the process. He grew out his curly, chestnut-colored hair for fun, not caring to slick it back with gel like the other kids, and he always looked forward to laughing with good friends by a campfire on a Friday night. He was very content to live the simple life.

And then his Dad died unexpectedly.

It turned Blake’s world upside down, and completely crushed his mother, already burdened by the premature loss of his older brother a number of years prior. He tried his best to save her, make her happy again, but she soon faded away on him, too.

As a result of his crippling grief, Blake exiled himself onto a deep sea rig at eighteen and began to gradually exchange his calloused hands for smooth, manicured fingernails. A self-proclaimed workaholic, he studied every last detail of the business until he had been transformed into a strong, charismatic tycoon. Now, at thirty six, he has money and power, and good looks to boot; literally everything one would ever want materially, but has come to learn that those things will never be enough to fix the broken boy inside.

He shifts his bruised body in an attempt to toss the uncomfortable thoughts from his head, deciding abruptly to get an early start on the day. After all, he has to check his fishing net, refill his water supply and work on his shelter. He also needs to search the fuselage for flares. An ambitious list for someone nearing their end, he muses, but then again, he’s never been able to just roll over and concede himself. Despite his amassed success, he still feels as if something important is eluding him in life. He laughs bitterly at his determination.

 *

The first rays of sun replace the moonlight as Blake walks gingerly to the charred, treeless patch uphill from his beachside camp. He’s mottled in purple, scraped up, and has a nasty cut on his collarbone, as well as a dull headache clouding his brain. The ashen crash site makes his symptoms feel exponentially worse, but he knows that its treasures are his only hope for prolonging his tropical stay.

He inhales sharply, and starts off by poking at a row of singed bush with a stick. Within seconds, the rustle of a few, watchful birds causes his skin to jump away from the underlying bone. He mutters a choice word under his breath and pushes onward until his tool finally catches on something solid near the forest floor. When he stoops to take a look, he finds the remains of his old, grey backpack caught up beneath the blackened leaves. It appears to be discolored and half melted, but still somewhat useful for collecting items. He quickly untangles it from a brittle matrix of twigs and examines the inner contents. Mostly a wash, he decides. Just a tattered ball cap, his leather wallet and a dead cell phone; however his Dad’s jackknife is still hanging there, secured tightly to an interior key ring, and that discovery undoubtedly draws a wistful smile.

He continues his calculated search in the ghostly silence, shoving some frayed wire in the bag for tying, along with some shards of glass that might help with igniting fire. The emergency flares evade him, though, so he can only resolve to try his luck again tomorrow. As he turns to leave, he accidentally catches sight of himself in a shiny fragment of industrial steel. He thinks he looks a bit wild with dried blood and mud streaking him, and with his hair submitting to the whims of humidity. However, he sees his blue eyes clearly for the first time in days, and feels a flash of his old self reflected there. It’s strangely comforting.

Upon his return to camp, Blake drops his bulging bag of scraps in the sand. He then begins to position the small slabs of metal he’s dragged back with him between tree trunks, in hopes of improvising an exterior wall. It’s ridiculously hot out, and his fingertips are getting seared like raw meat, but he is pretty sure that there is an array of reptilian life on the island so he’s decidedly bent on barricading his new hideaway. When he gets the final piece in place, he steps back to wipe at his drenched brow. Admittedly, the shelter is not perfect, and he’ll have to pick away at it some more yet, but he’s satisfied for now with the extra layer of protection.

After hardly an hour’s rest, and only a bit of rabbit food to sustain him, Blake summons the energy to trek to the fresh water stream he found two days ago with plans to rehydrate, wash and eat. His stomach has been begging him for something more substantial than overripe, wild fruit so he set up a net on yesterday’s trip with the ambition of catching a protein-rich dinner. The impatient country boy in him would love to pull up the trap now, but he knows that if he did, his fish would spoil in the blazing midday heat, nullifying all of his hard work. He literally can’t have that.

And so, Blake diverts his attention to collecting a scooped section of fallen bark from the ground. He then squats at the creek’s edge in order to use it to shuttle some of the clear, flowing liquid to his parched lips. It’s cold, and undeniably refreshing. He laps up a little more while his homemade reservoir fills, and then peels off his shirt so that it can be rinsed out in the aquamarine-colored water, too.

With skin freshly exposed to the elements, the tall tycoon figures he should probably take the opportunity to wash his angry, red shoulder wound clean. He doesn’t want to, but he knows that it is necessary to keep the threat of infection at bay. Tentatively, he flushes it out with the nippy fluid, wincing harshly as sensitive nerve endings get shocked and splashed. Adrenaline eventually counters the spidering pain in his torso until he no longer thinks that he’ll crumble and crack.

After a while, he chooses to remove his jeans and boots so that he can stand in the lazy current. He doesn’t like the feeling of being so vulnerable, but he is eager to give his sore muscles a proper chance to soak. As he allows himself to relax in the seclusion, he slips into the memory of his childhood swimming hole. He thinks briefly about sinking to his knees in order to let the shallow water engulf him, like it did when he was a couple feet shorter, but some twigs snap not too far away, suddenly putting his senses on high alert.

He freezes and listens, before rapidly scanning the openings in the trees. His heart begins to pound violently enough for his ribs to hurt, but after a long minute, he finds some composure and inches out of the stream. He slips on his pants and grips at his knife, ready to attack, however nothing of consequence materializes and he has to wonder if his mind is starting to play tricks on him. God knows, he’s certainly read about what isolation does to a person.

In the aftermath of the scare, Blake collapses on the grassy bank, exhausted and nervous. He knows that he still has to check his net, which is currently weighted down with rocks in the shallows, but he can’t seem to muster the poise to do that just yet. Instead, he invites the lush, green spikes of foliage to encompass his horizontal frame, and promptly begins to envision it growing unhindered around him. Why couldn’t it be this easy?

Ashes to ashes.  
Dust to dust.

His long fingers link loosely across his abdomen until the heave of his frenzied breath finally evens out. 

*

Blake’s unintended catnap doesn’t last for more than forty minutes, but he chastises himself for it anyways as he begins to toil hurriedly by a nook in the riverbed. Another slip-up, another lapse in self control, and now he is past due on the last task of the day. He inhales deeply, and resolves not to let it happen again.

With a little tinkering and a few swipes of his knife, the rudimentary fishing contraption is soon rising through the water. Blake gives it a solid tug so that it breaches the surface with a pop, and quickly finds two silver mullets thrashing in its knots. The scaly fish are no delicacy, but at this point, he’ll take what he can get. He plucks them loose with a deft hand, and cleans them over a flat rock. It’s been years since he’s done such a chore, but he manages to execute it with surprising ability. Proud, he wraps the fleshy filets in a waxy, broadleaf before heading back to camp to cook.

On his walk through the forest, he comes across some disturbed branches and realizes that maybe he wasn’t exactly crazy. There was indeed something sizeable roaming near the stream. It’s somewhat satisfying and disconcerting all at once, and part of him becomes desperate to get eyes on the subject before sunset. However, his stomach groans loudly, reminding him of the importance of food, and Blake knows he should relent to the primal need. He sets to work building his fire for the night, and when the embers glow a brilliant orange, he grills his fish. The warm, flaked pieces melt in his mouth, almost making him forget about the mysterious presence lurking. He tries to savor the moment, and the bait fish, like he was at a five star restaurant.

Flames continue to lick at his face as stars begin to prick the canvas above him. He studies them all, choosing to believe that three, clustered brightly together, are his waiting loved ones. He knows he should have joined them up there this week, if not before, but his soul just can’t seem to find the gates of heaven. He toes at the soft, white sand, and whispers apologetically to his guiding lights above.

“I guess I have some unfinished business down here just yet...”

With eyelids, heart, and limbs feeling heavy, Blake trudges the few feet to his homemade bed. He is sure that he won’t sleep much, not with the flashes of tragedy ripping through his conscience, but it’s the only possible way he can push time forward, and get to another day.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I intend for this to be a short story. Multi chapter, maybe nine or ten in total.
> 
> Yes/No? Let me know what you’re thinking...


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter Gwen...

She heard it before she saw it.

The ominous sound of screaming air, followed by a distant pop, startled her awake and sent her scrambling from bed in a stupor, fearing the apocalypse. But then she caught glimpse of the glowing sparks shooting into the clear, night sky, like eerie fireworks, and intrinsically knew something altogether different had occurred.

She had to take action.

*

By trade, Gwen Stefani is an American field scientist, an expert researcher and data collector, but since witnessing the fiery phenomenon, now four nights prior, she has opted to transform herself into a one woman investigative crew. The slender blonde suspects that the event was an epic crash of sorts, and although she doubts that there will be any survivors to be found, she feels that she has a duty to unlock what happened. It's sort of ingrained in her nature.

Of course she could have used her satellite phone to simply report the incident, but she decided almost immediately that she would hate to bother the Coast Guard with what could turn out to be a rogue meteor. Her gut keeps shouting that it is not, that her instincts are right, but she has become surprisingly good at ignoring her intuition, and even better at making poor decisions. It’s undoubtedly what led her to this tiny island in the first place.

The island in question is no more than an unnamed mass of thick, tropical terrain floating somewhere in the southern Gulf. Gwen thinks it’s an insignificant dot of latitude and longitude that those in the general population would never even consider. And yet, she has voluntarily entrenched herself in its jungles because of her unfortunate history, and her deep need to organize chaos. She is sure that her therapist would be humming most disapprovingly.

As the image of her tutting doctor swirls in her mind, Gwen chops aggressively at some stubborn brush blocking her path. A host of leaves shake and chatter, while a few thinner branches snap completely off. She stops to survey the damage, mildly startled by her pent up power, before glancing down at the GPS watch wrapped around her thin wrist.

She has to be getting close.

After all, she’s hiked on and off for the better part of two days, almost six, tough miles, and prepared extensively for a whole day and a half previous to that. She plucks the topographical map from the side pocket of her backpack in order to confirm her suspicion, and by every measure, appears to be just west of her coordinates. Perfect. She should be able to find the site of impact soon, and set up her tent by nightfall.

Gwen adjusts her route through the towering stand of trees slightly, and realizes almost instantly that she is on the right course. There are strewn pieces of metal and mangled debris scattered about in what should be uninhabited territory. The grim sight makes her stomach turn so suddenly that she gasps, and chokes back a mouthful of vomit. What was she honestly thinking? Her mind wrestles with the idea of going any further.

But, her body is drawn forward into the wreckage, not unlike the way she tends to be drawn to the aura of troublesome men. She left California for precisely this reason, knowing that if she stayed, she would undoubtedly be bewitched by yet another one of the dark souls that frequents the cityscape there. She can’t seem to avoid the narcissistic bad boy types, the liars, and the cheaters, and it never ends well for a trusting woman like her. Never.

The blonde scientist swallows hard and treads deeper into the freakish calm. She notices that everything around her is becoming a foreboding shade of charred black, or ash grey, and it honestly feels to her like some kind of horror movie. She reminds herself that it is not, that something real and dreadful is near, just before she is confronted with the remains of a white, twin engine airplane in a decimated clearing. Her stomach heaves, and this time she expels its minimal contents at her feet. She then begins to dissect the tragic mess, like she did her last relationship.

Broken, hopeless, disintegrated beyond repair.

A disaster despite her best efforts.

She feels tears streak her cheeks as she kneels by the biggest chunk of fuselage in a state of mourning. Her body trembles, and her hoarse voice whispers a prayer asking for her God to let these weary hearts rest, and to heal the shattered left behind.

It is a miracle she survived. These people were not so lucky.

*

Unsure of what to do next, Gwen sips at some water from her canteen, wipes haphazardly at her blotchy face, and starts to pace the perimeter looking for a clearing to set up her tent. Perhaps with some sleep and some nourishment, she’ll develop a better plan. She figures at the very least she can take some notes, write down any numbers that might help identify this ill-fated machine, and report it, like she should have done in the first place. As she stews over her recklessness, an anger begins to boil in her belly.

Why couldn’t she resist the urge to come here?

Why isn’t there more she can do?

She hears her therapist’s cryptic offerings float through her conscience, but she knows that she has never been able to follow that stream of well-intentioned advice with any sort of consistency.

You can’t solve the world’s problems, Gwen.

Some things just can’t be forced, Gwen.

You should take some time to focus on you, Gwen.

A frustrated scream threatens to escape her throat, however she realizes in that exact moment that her footsteps are not the only ones marking the powdery grey ground cover. She stops suddenly, not wanting to disturb them, and stares unbelievably at the solid boot prints at least five sizes bigger than her own. Her heart accelerates to a breakneck speed as she wonders if someone, presumably a male, could have walked away from this deathly scene.

Impossible. Not a chance.

But, she jumps ten steps forward anyways, taking a mental inventory of the items she brought with her, calculating out rations, and determining how she can help this person, if she can find him. She assumes that he has to be close to the area, but she hasn’t heard any unusual sounds to decipher a direction.

Gwen automatically starts to scavenge the site for clues of his whereabouts, and quickly guesses that he may have headed south given the presence of flattened grasses just beyond a break in the trees. She investigates the trail for a few extra yards to be sure, concluding that the path does indeed lead downhill, towards the ocean. A wave of adrenaline immediately rushes through her veins and it takes every ounce of restraint she has to stop herself from chasing the mystery figure into the night. Sunset is looming, she repeats, and it could be dangerous. Besides, she should be focused on the tasks of pitching her tent and igniting a small fire to heat up some canned pasta.

When the starchy noodles are ready to eat, the forty year old scientist sits down, cross-legged in the dirt, with the warm can cupped in her lap. She picks away at the overly processed food, twirling her fork aimlessly against the ribbed aluminum every so often, while thinking about the unknown human not more than a quarter of a mile away. She dares to let her imagination run wild with ideas of what he might be like, and who he might be, knowing she could very well regret it later.

Will he be closed off, stricken by the tragedy?

Will he be damaged, bloody or burned?

Will he need her?

Gwen silently prays that he will be ready to accept her help, and maybe even appreciate her, without caveat. But, who is she kidding really; nothing in her life has ever been that easy. The fact that she is a magnet for mishap and calamity thoroughly depresses her.

The wispy flames that make up her fire eventually die out, and Gwen shimmies into the comfort of her sleeping bag shortly thereafter. She drifts in and out of consciousness, finding that she is jolted awake every so often by a crack of lightning, or the authenticity of her dreams. It’s pouring buckets outside, and she vividly recalls trying to reach out for someone through the shadows and ruins, but no one is there to take her hand. She is alone. Always alone.

*

The bright morning light creeps through the dripping wet canopy and permeates the colored nylon of her tent much too early for her liking. She groans loudly and buries her face, not wanting to crawl out into the tropical wilderness just yet. But then she remembers him, and her dark chocolate eyes fly rapidly open. She can’t lose another day without finding out who he is.

Gwen rashly decides to leave her tent zipped up by the crash site, noting its position on both her map and her watch. The beach can’t be all that far, she assumes, and she can always circle back in a little while if needed. She hurriedly switches out yesterday’s clothing for a worn pair of jeans and a loose, black tank top before popping her hair into a messy bun. She then anxiously, yet excitedly, begins her hike south.

The blonde quickly loses track of the original trail she found due to the heavy rain that fell overnight, but manages to emerge onto the hot, coral sand in under a half hour, anyways. There are no obvious signs of human activity upon first glance so she takes off her shoes, and strolls the shoreline casually, not wanting to frighten whoever might be lingering about. She sets her focus on scanning the spaces in between the trees, giggling to herself lightly as the salt water sneaks up to nip at her feet.

This may be a lost cause, she considers, after ten minutes.

She should probably find a freshwater source before long, if only for the purposes of her own survival.

She should get back to work.

Her stubbornness pushes her onward, though, until she spots some small scraps of metal and burnt tinder nestled around the beginnings of a sturdily-constructed shelter. Her brain immediately scrambles to process the scene, but can’t function well enough to produce any useful or cohesive thought. When a tall, broad-chested man with grown out stubble suddenly emerges from the shadows in a frenzy, she knows she is done for. Her skin pales, and her world stops, as her fingers travel gingerly to the fabric covering her left collarbone. She feels her heart shudder in disbelief.

He’s real. He’s alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your wonderful comments! This is a bit of a shorter chapter, but hopefully gives background and sets the story up.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pair meet in all of their flawed glory

He’s alive.

Blake inhales a slow breath of salty, sea air just to confirm the fact for himself. He’s not sure if he should feel proud quite yet, but he does experience a certain sense of relief that he was able to make it through another full night on the island. He lies still in his pieced together bed for a moment, absorbing the welcome sunlight, while simultaneously thanking his lucky stars for stopping the rain. It pounded away at his metal wall, and breached the crevices of his new abode, chilling him with a thick dampness. It is a problem that he’ll definitely have to fix later.

He reaches for a small sip of water, before angling himself to sit up. At first movement, his joints squeal and protest, while his muscles scream out with anger. He groans achingly, and attempts to placate his body by flopping his weight back against a tree. His blue eyes then drift to the gaps in the shelter where he can see the lapping, relaxing waves, and he begins to count his breaths once more.

One, two...

He barely makes it to eight before a gorgeous, blonde woman hijacks his view and stops his heart. He chuckles ruefully. So much for keeping himself alive.

Blake watches with peaked interest as she walks along the shoreline with a gigantic backpack in tow. She appears to be searching for something, but gets distracted here and there by the gentle roll of the crystalline water. He instantly finds himself mesmerized by her beautiful smile, the one that naturally graces her face when the waves tickle her toes. He grins boyishly at her, almost carefree really, until he bluntly realizes that this human might be his ticket home.

As soon as the thought hits him, he stands in a hastened flurry and thrusts his full 6’5” form out into the blazing sun. He immediately squints blindly in her direction, scouring his vocabulary for the right words to yell out. He doesn’t want to scare her, but feels anxious to convey the urgency of his situation. For him, it’s matter of life or death.

His long arm flies into the air to grab her attention, however, when he finally attempts to use his voice, it gets tripped up on its way out of his throat. He coughs and sputters with an edge of panic, until his eyes adjust to the vision of her staring wildly back at him.

Blake takes a few, uncertain steps towards her and tests his vocal chords again.

“I… I need help. I was in an airplane crash. Can you help me?”

Desperation floods through his veins and he suddenly feels what it’s like to be at someone’s mercy. He hasn’t had to rely on anyone, or admit his shortcomings, in a very long time. His shoulders droop and curl inward, but his piercing blues manage to stay locked on the blonde. He is surprised when she starts to approach him with a warm stride.

“I need some help.”

He repeats his words, this time in a gravelly whisper, and she nods, as her brilliant, mocha eyes inspect him.

“I can’t believe you’re… I saw it, and… wow, I am so sorry.”

Her fingers tentatively reach for the bloodstained fabric sitting over his torn skin, but she pulls them back before they make contact. His heart lurches in his chest as he realizes that maybe he was watching her movements too intensely for her comfort.

“You saw it?”

He quietly questions her and she nods again, choosing to let some silence linger between them before she elaborates.

“Well, I heard the plane, I think, and saw some sparks and thick, black smoke off in the distance. I wasn’t sure because my research station is miles away, but I had to come see if… I’m so glad that I found you.”

His brain fumbles through the details of her story. She saw his plane go down and came to find him. Someone cared enough to come look for him. His fingers twist awkwardly with the pocket of his dirty jeans and his gaze meets hers, expectantly.

“So more help is on the way?”

He sees the way her features fall, and he considers that maybe he should have said thank you instead. His boot shifts nervously in the sand, and he apologizes immediately.

“Sorry… It’s just that I am sore and confused, and hungry. I haven’t slept. I can’t sleep. I really thought I was going to die here... And then you showed up... I should have just said thank you.”

Blake spews his confession before smiling sheepishly, and the woman seems almost caught off guard by it. She blushes and ducks her head, and quickly begins rummaging in her backpack. If he wasn’t so caught up in her adorable body language, he might have seen the flash of guilt in her eyes.

“Food. Right. I have some in here. I need to fill up my water, though. God, I’m terrible at this already.”

“No you’re not.”

His hand gently touches the skin on top of her shoulder, and for a man who is usually confident in his actions, he feels oddly hesitant about how to approach her. She stops suddenly with a granola bar in her grip, and peeks up at him. He notices that there are tears beginning to pool along her lashes.

“You should have died. I thought... you would be dead.”

He swallows hard. Her statement isn’t news to him, but hearing the words spoken so starkly from her mouth absolutely guts him. His fingers push aimlessly at the sweaty waves of hair dangling along his forehead as he fights his natural urge to clam up.

“I know. My pilot…”

Blake grimaces and shuts his lids tightly as his deep-seeded grief slams away at his insides. He struggles to keep it contained, not wanting to be reduced to a useless puddle. Not here, not now, not ever, he pleads with himself. He can’t be useless.

“Believe me. I‘m aware.”

He tries his words again, this time with an edge of finality, and they immediately cause her round mouth to form a tight line. He stung her. Blake exhales regrettably, wondering why he is even all that concerned about her feelings.

His sharp blues soften, though, when they meet her scared doe eyes, and before he can process what is happening, she is in front of him, silently wrapping her little arms around his torso. It shocks Blake at first, and he thinks that the embrace feels uncomfortably stiff until he finally allows himself to accept it. His hands tentatively tuck into the small of her back, and his thumb begins to stroke soothingly. Her silky head melts against his bruised chest and he dares to press slightly forward into her warmth.

“I’m Blake, by the way.”

He can feel her smile through his shirt before she hums her own introduction.

“I’m Gwen.”

“Gwen?”

He tests out the sound of her name on his lips, and an eagerness quickly radiates from her gaze.

“Yeah?”

“Can I eat that granola bar now?”

A laugh bubbles out of her and it is so infectious that he can feel his dimples burst from his cheeks. She hands him the simple treat as they grin blindly at each other, and a wave of ease passes through his body, tantalizing him with a very foreign, but comfortable, sense of calm.

His eyes keep with her as he opens and chews the grainy food, and while he begins to think through his and Gwen’s next steps together. He’s not at all used to planning for more than just himself and it isn’t helping that she appears to be studying his jaw movement with an arousing curiosity. He swallows a bite, watching as her eyes flicker to his Adam’s apple, before he speaks.

“You mentioned needing water. We can go to the freshwater stream not far from here while we wait.”

Her milky complexion takes on a pink hue as she absorbs his words.

“Oh.. yes, we should do that. I think I have that stream on my map. I wasn’t far from it yesterday.”

Blake’s index finger points softly at her in recognition, and his head tilts slightly to the side as the puzzle pieces click in his brain. The rustling that spooked him near the water, the broken branches - it was her.

“It was you! I was bathing and you scared the shit out of me when you passed by!”

His skin instantly reddens at his own admission, possibly because he doesn’t generally disclose his fears, or maybe because Gwen is now considering the image of him naked. Her eyes widen at the accusation before she valiantly tries to stifle a bemused smile.

“I’m sorry?”

She giggles an apology of sorts, and all he can do his shake his head at the beautifully intriguing woman who appears to live her life without much of a blueprint.

“C’mon, I’ll grab my knife and carry your pack. The damn thing probably weighs more than you.”

Gwen’s features fade into a frown, and he sees that she isn’t moving to comply with his instruction. What did he say now? What went wrong? He thinks his face must show his confusion because she soon divulges the issue.

“Blake, you’re hurt... Don’t be stupid, ok? I can handle it.”

Her bluntness is a shock to his system. No one ever talks to him like that, but then again he isn’t in a suit jacket and tie. It takes him a second to adjust, but his lips twitch up bashfully and he concedes.

“Ok.”

Her brow furrows, and she locks eyes with him, seemingly looking for more. The intensity with which she is searching his soul sends a jolt of electricity tingling down his spine. He blinks, anxious not to give away too much, which leads Gwen to quietly challenge him.

“Just ok? You aren’t going to argue?”

Blake shrugs tentatively, searching her suspicious cocoa irises in return. He then answers in a gentle drawl.

“Nope. When you’re right, you’re right.”

She grins at him triumphantly, before strapping her ridiculously large bag to her back. His stomach flutters and his heart skips hopefully along in his chest, pleading with him to give this feeling a chance. Deep down, where a fleck of his youthful innocence lies untouched, he considers the request, but every rational layer thereafter promptly scoffs at the idea. He isn’t made for relationships.

“Ready?”

Concern laces both her tone and her touch when she grazes his forearm with her fingertips.

“Yeah, follow me.”

Blake trudges toward the stream in relative silence. Every step feels tedious, and the sleep deprivation is wreaking havoc on his ability to stay mentally sharp. He dreams about laying between the silky linens adorning his bed, and about his fully stocked refrigerator, two things he will no longer take for granted when he gets home. Gwen offers a bit of encouragement or a sympathetic smile every time he twists his head to check on her, but otherwise gives him his space.

“Here we are. If you get your canteens out, we can fill them up where there is a bit of current swirling, and wash up anything that's dirty while we’re at it.”

He turns to speak to her, and finds her staring stubbornly back at him again. She crosses her arms, and he immediately senses that he is about to be lectured. What could she possibly be ticked about now? He bites his lip in an attempt to take her seriously.

“Blake, I want you to sit and rest. I understand that you are trying to be tough, but your body is every color of the rainbow right now and I can do this. Trust me please.”

He’s not good at trusting others, however he can’t deny that every last fibre of his being has been stretched to its limit, and would benefit from a break. He threads his fingers through the wisps of damp hair on his neckline and nods his agreement. He then adds an explanation of sorts in subdued fashion.

“Gwen, I’m used to doing things on my own. I’m used to being in control. But, I’m not above listening to good advice. Let me know if you need any help.”

She shoots him a quizzical look before walking past him to the water. He sees the gears grinding inside of her head and he wishes desperately that he could read her thoughts in that moment. However, he has to settle on a heavy sigh and several groans as he works his way down to the ground to rest.

The oil man shifts his long limbs around periodically, in a battle to stay comfortable, while his brain gets lost in the study of Gwen’s movements. He thinks that she is breezy and unquestionably efficient, and before long, she is bringing a wet cloth to him, along with some gauze and a tube of ointment.

“Will you let me look at that gash on your shoulder?”

Her voice is soft and uncertain. Blake peers briefly at her, and then down to the crimson patch on his shirt, as a nervous energy begins to stir in his gut. His wound undoubtedly requires medical attention, but this feels different. Intimate. If he lets her touch his bare chest, there will be strings. He will be attached.

“Blake?”

She isn’t afraid to test his boundaries and that scares him. What scares him even more is his answer.

“Sure, go ahead.”

Gwen kneels in beside his stretched out legs so that she can face him head on. Her nimble fingers then reach to unbutton his casual, collared plaid. He normally wears a t-shirt underneath, but since the crash he has had to alternate between the two to expand his wardrobe, which means he no longer has an extra barrier there. He winces, and concentrates on his uneven, shallow breaths as she slips the round pieces of plastic loose.

“Business man? I’m guessing a boss type...”

She starts up a conversation to distract him, and it works.

“Yes. Is it that obvious? How’d you know?”

“Private plane, collared shirt. What you said before about liking control.”

His marine blues catch her chocolate orbs, and he corrects her in a low, hushed voice.

“I didn’t say I liked it. Just comes with the territory.”

She gently slides the material apart and waits for him to wriggle it off his shoulders. When it drops in behind him, her eyes drift to his wound. She takes a deep breath before dragging a digit over the unmarked skin just beneath it, causing him to swallow discreetly.

“When did you see my plane?”

Her gaze flickers up to his.

“I camped there last night. My tent is still pitched there actually.”

“We should pick it up on the way back. You should stay by the beach tonight.”

His fists ball up and his knuckles whiten when she presses the wet cloth firmly to his collarbone. She whispers an apology when he has to grit his teeth before moving her other palm to the pectoral muscle opposite his wound. It soothes him like a crackling wood fireplace, or a balmy burst of sunshine.

“Hold still.”

Gwen dabs a little more against the rawness, and then delicately squeezes some greasy salve on his skin. He watches her expression, and notices how her tongue sticks cutely in her cheek when she is focused. He wants to know more about her.

“What’s your story?”

She stops what she is doing when he poses the question, clearly surprised by his interest. A strained laugh then escapes her mouth.

“I’m a researcher. I’ve been on the island for three months now observing some of the interdependencies that exist in the ecosystem here.”

He nods lightly and eyes her carefully, sensing a hesitation. She huffs out a resigned sigh before making the choice to abandon all pretense.

“Honestly, though, my goal was to more or less escape men for a while… but, well, here we are.”

Blake hums thoughtfully as she begins to position the gauze over top his gash. The side of her calf is grazing his outer thigh, and she’s leaning in far enough that he can feel her sweet breath on his scruff.

“Hmm, well if it helps, I tend to be pretty good at keeping my distance from women. But yeah, I suppose… here we are.”

Two of Gwen’s fingers absently smooth over a section of cloth tape meant to hold Blake’s dressing in place while they seemingly ponder each other’s enticing proximity. He could kiss her parted lips with one subtle move, but he won’t do that to her. He would undoubtedly wreck her, and he gathers that she’s already had her share of heartbreak and disappointment. Besides, he has another nagging question that needs an answer.

“When will the responders be here to get me?”

Her lithe figure pulls away and straightens, and her agile hands slide off his chest. A sinking feeling develops in his stomach. Gwen’s voice sounds smaller and more distant when she replies.

“I… I didn’t call it in. I’m so sorry, Blake.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwen and Blake test each other's patience a bit...

She almost kissed him on the bank by the river. Something about the moment seized her, and his soft mouth, bordered by a smattering of auburn whiskers, was right there for the taking. However, she couldn’t bring herself to do that to him without airing the truth. The fact was she didn’t report the crash. She should have, but she didn’t, and now, no one was coming for him.

The minute Gwen admitted her mistake to Blake, he recoiled and cursed under his breath. He then stood abruptly and started them on the path back through the forest. As they walked, he fussed and muttered to himself, but in the end, he helped her to dismantle her tent before he carried it all the way downhill to the beach, despite the hurt radiating from his eyes.

At that point, she could only watch as he retreated silently to the shoreline, where he is still sitting now after just over an hour. The waves are tumbling in, the sand is as hot as coals, but his face and arms remain obliviously huddled around his knees. The sight makes her feel sick. She betrayed his trust, the trust she asked him to give, and needs to find a way to make it right.

The blonde starts to rifle through her backpack, deciding suddenly that an offering of food may be the key to breaking the ice. She quickly selects a ripened avocado, picked from a native grove, and slices it carefully into chunks. She then mixes the fleshy pieces with some canned tuna before wandering slowly towards the water’s edge.

“Thought you might be hungry…”

She extends the dish and a fork to him, and when he accepts it, she tentatively sits down beside him.

“Thank you.”

His polite, but despondent, drawl pierces her insides, and she notices that his stormy blue eyes can only flicker in her direction. She doodles random shapes in the pillowy, coral sand debating where exactly to begin.

“I know I’ve apologized a thousand times, but I am sorry, Blake. I really never imagined you’d be here… alive. I made an awful error in judgement, but I would still like to help you get out of this mess.”

Gwen stammers, and fights off the tears clouding her view. The microscopic grains around Blake shift when he twists his hips a fraction to listen. She takes that as her sign to continue.

“It’s not ideal, but I thought we could hike to my research station. I have a satellite phone there, and some basic amenities that will make things a bit easier.”

He turns to looks at her then, and although there is a roughness to his expression, she feels a weight lift from her heavy bones. He may put up a hardened front, but she gets the impression that he is generally sensitive and considerate, and wouldn’t be the type to use her misstep as leverage. His next words affirm her suspicions.

“I forgive you, Gwen. I do. And I think that’s a good plan you have. We can leave here in the morning since we’ve probably both been through enough for today.”

A reserved smile twinkles on her face, and she catches a shadow of Blake’s dimples briefly, too. She almost hates herself for thinking it, but he’s undeniably handsome, even when he’s stressed out.

“Ok… Eat, please. I’m going to set up my tent.”

She lets her fingers grip gently on his broad shoulder as she prepares to stand, maybe because she craves the contact, or maybe as a way to thank him for his understanding. When one of his strong hands reaches across his body to softly meet her there, she staggers in shock. Her muscles then freeze in anticipation before Blake murmurs in a conciliatory tone.

“Hey, my anger… it’s not for you. I can only blame myself for what’s happened.”

The warmth of his touch is gone just as quickly as it arrived, and it leaves her spinning. She can’t figure out why it crests so serenely in one moment, and then retracts, like the tide. Gwen suspects that he is holding himself prisoner for the wreckage, or possibly, for something even greater than that. Whatever it is, she hopes that he will be able to share the secret so that he can eventually rid himself of the shackles chaining him down. Her fingers squeeze lightly on his ripped skin once more as she whispers to him.

“Blake, it’s not your fault. I barely know you, or your story, but I would bet my life that I’m right on that.”

She then takes the opportunity to slip away to the tree line so that he can think and refuel.

*

The big business man starts to come around as the afternoon fades to early evening. He smiles shyly at her when he approaches, and then takes some time to meander around her tent, coolly inspecting the metal pegs planted beneath the spongy ground. He uses his boot to drive a couple deeper into the Earth before finally speaking aloud.

“Can I ask why you are so confident in me? You have zero reason to be.”

Gwen instinctively scrunches her brow and cocks her head at him, puzzled by the pointed question. To her, Blake seems honest, hard working and successful, and God knows, she’s certainly put her trust in less. Why shouldn’t she feel comfortable taking a flyer on him?

“I don’t know how to explain it, but I have some experience in telling the difference between good and bad. And believe me, you aren’t bad, Blake, not even close.”

The shade of his irises lightens to a sky blue, and a boyish chuckle trickles from his mouth.

“You’re seriously unlike any woman I’ve ever met.”

Her cheeks stretch into a grin and her white teeth glisten brilliantly against the pink clouds. Nobody has ever told her that before and it is causing every cell in her body to leap with joy. She can’t help but tease him a little, though.

“I’ll take that as a compliment… Even with your limited sample set.”

Blake smirks crookedly and rolls his eyes. His playfulness instantly affects her, and serves to awaken the butterflies that have been lying dormant in her stomach since her mid twenties. He counters her jab smoothly.

“You should. And I do know women, Gwen. I just rarely date any of them.”

He kneels to build up kindling in the pile of ashes leftover from his previous fires, leaving Gwen to wonder if he would ever date her. She can’t deny that there seems to be a raw and elemental attraction between them, however her education has taught her that not all forms of energy are meant to be harnessed. Regardless, she does feel like they’ve established a more solid footing now, to the point where she thinks she could call him a friend.

They settle in by the charcoal pit, chatting about their plans for the next morning, as Blake patiently coaxes infant flames up from the smoldering wood. Gwen watches his actions intently, and is effectively distracted from speech when, every so often, he swipes at the rogue strands of hair dipping down past his forehead. With one subtle glance from him, she knows that she’s been caught, but he doesn’t call her on it, or seem bothered by the attention. When he finally backs his body up so that he is sitting in the sand beside her, she is admittedly turned on. However, she notices the excessive beads of sweat dripping down his temples, as well as his flushed face, and quickly snaps into a different gear.

“You feeling ok?”

Blake’s gaze falls on her, and for a moment, he appears guarded, like admitting to an illness would be a burden in some way. But then he draws in a slow, steady breath and gives in.

“It could be the fire. I’m not totally sure... Maybe I’m overdoing it.”

She nods gently, but has an inkling that he might be downplaying his symptoms because he does look incredibly feverish to her. She dares to offer a suggestion, despite the fact it might challenge his potential insecurities.

“I think you should stay in the tent tonight. The constant exposure to the elements is going to make you sick.”

His fingers stroke over the edge of his eye socket and then down his beard until they meet his thumb at the apex of his chin. She can see that he is agitated by the idea so she braces herself for his reaction. But, Blake’s tone is decidedly more resigned than angry when it pours out of him.

“No, I can’t do that to you. I’ll be fine out here. It’s not that bad under the shelter...”

His hand moves to brush at the flecks of flickering orange ash floating carelessly down between them. He’s purposely disengaging, and deflecting from the truth.

“You can have the whole tent. I really don’t mind a night under the stars...”

She tries to reassure him, but he interjects immediately.

“Gwen, I already told you that I don’t sleep anyways. It’s no big deal.”

A frustrated squeal slips past her lips, and before she can stop herself, her tiny palm flails out to emphatically squeeze at his knuckles. It startles him and demands his attention.

“Your health is a big deal, Blake! I’ll find my bottle of Advil at least, and we can go from there...”

He sighs audibly, and then reiterates his stance like a disgruntled child.

“I’m not sleeping in the tent.”

“What happened to “When you’re right, you’re right?””

She turns his own words against him, but he remains staunch.

“I just don’t want to, Gwen.”

Irked by his impressive stubbornness, she hotly points out one, last detail that has seemingly not yet occurred to him.

“Have it your way, but you do realize that you’re going to have to sleep with me when we’re in the jungle...”

His marine blues focus hard on her. The intensity of his expression could easily melt her faster than the fire blazing before them. He swallows once before speaking to her in a low, husky whisper.

“Listen, I’m not afraid to sleep with you. I’m more afraid that you’ll regret it if I do.”

Goosebumps erupt across the surface of her skin, and the streak of cheekiness she was feeling fades into nonexistence. All she can hear through the thick silence is the sound of the waves breaking on the shoreline, the hiss of the fire, and the rapid thumping of her heart.

Raw, unharnessed, elemental energy.

“Why would I regret something like that?”

Gwen quietly prods, and Blake shoots her a pained look before biting at his bottom lip and shaking his head. He’s not in the mood for explanations.

“I wish I understood you.”

She mumbles the exasperated words under her breath while glancing up at the richly colored sky. She didn’t necessarily mean for him to hear her, but he laughs somewhat sorrowfully in response.

“I’m only beginning to understand myself… and that’s taken all of thirty six years.”

His spontaneous reflection strikes an instant chord within her, setting her a little off kilter. She can’t help but hum empathetically.

“I suppose it’s taken me forty, even with a therapist.”

Blake cracks a small, genuine smile as she stands to sort out another rationed snack for them both. Her heart flutters expectantly in her chest, despite the utter confusion swirling in the grey space around it. It’s undoubtedly paradoxical that her vital organ would want to be gifted again, especially after all that it’s been through, yet that is exactly what Gwen believes is transpiring within the confines of her rib cage.

She peers at the sweetly troubled businessman, slightly irritated that he had to drop out of midair and into her perfectly isolated life. His presence literally disrupted every safeguard she had on the island, and consequently, subjected her to every temptation she was trying to avoid.

And now she is vulnerable.  
Her heart is vulnerable.

She spots Blake peeking timidly over his shoulder to check on her, which in turn, causes her fit of annoyance to wane. A pleasurable coziness blooms optimistically in its place.

Oh no. Here she goes, again.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So thankful for the comments and support on this! I'm hoping to post one more time before Thursday if I can, and then I'll be out of town for four days.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blake struggles with his growing interest in Gwen.

Blake didn’t sleep in the tent. He couldn’t.

As much as he envisioned wrapping Gwen tightly in his arms until they fell into a satisfying slumber, he knew that wouldn’t be their reality. Thrashing and perspiring, and fending off night terrors, is surely what would have happened. He didn’t want to impose that on her. She would have regretted it, just like she would probably regret any rash decision to really, truly sleep with him, and so he protected them both by choosing to lie miserable and stiff in his shelter.

The ensuing darkness was cruel and relentless, worse than he ever could have anticipated. His conflicted thoughts about Gwen were all tangled up with images of the crash, frightening him well beyond measure.

He feared letting her on that plane with him.  
He feared dying alone.  
He feared dragging her down.  
He feared losing her.

He had to bite his tongue to stop himself from yelling out in frantic disillusion until his chance at respite finally came with the first glimmer of dawn. It was then that Blake crept outside to watch the beautiful sunrise over the vast expanse of seawater, and to wait for his own curious ray of light to wake up.

*

His body is leaning against one of the tree trunks anchoring his little abode when he hears the nylon of Gwen’s tent begin to rustle and swish. Soon after, he sees her sleepy head pop out past the zippered fly to look around. Her surprised rasp tickles his ears the second she spots him.

“Wow, you’re an early bird!”

Blake stops peeling a stumpy, brown banana in order to smile softly at her.

“Good morning, sunshine.”

The pretty scientist blushes before his eyes, and self-consciously pushes a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Blake notices that her loose bun from the day before is gone, and wide swaths of gold are now layered untidily around her face. She’s breathtaking.

“How did you sleep?”

She ambles out onto the beach, stretches her willowy limbs, and yawns, before answering his question.

“Like a log. You?”

He is sure that the plum-colored bags sitting above his orbital bones probably tell the tale, however he shrugs indifferently, and plays along with the small talk.

“I’ve had worse nights.”

Gwen’s chocolate irises quickly narrow on him, but she chooses to let the topic go, and for that he is thankful. If he’s learnt anything in their limited time together, it’s that he doesn’t like to fight with her.

“You gonna have some breakfast before we pack up and leave?”

He only asks because the daylight hours are critical to them, and he isn’t familiar with her daily routine. Of course he’d much rather lounge around with her on the soft sand sipping icy cocktails if he could, but their situation isn’t made for that. This isn’t some kind of vacation. As if to tempt him, her teeth scrape over the pad of her index finger as she contemplates, and it almost drives Blake mad that it couldn’t be.

“Mmm, no. I’m just going to take a swim before we start the trek. Two days inland could get really stinky.”

The pureness of her subsequent giggle vibrates through his lanky frame, shaking loose some of his previously held reservations. A third night in the thick, tropical jungle due to delays like this could be tolerable, he thinks. He watches her fish a small bottle from her belongings and then dash toward the brilliant blue water, like some kind of goofy teenager. When she glances mischievously back at him, he shouts.

“Wait, what about a bathing suit?”

Every last inch of his skin warms with a mix of desire and embarrassment when she ignores him to strip down to her undergarments. He tries to be a gentleman and not stare, but her body is a sculpted piece of art. He admires her curves for a moment, until she dives under the wet surface, and then groans suddenly when he realizes that his lust is becoming quite evident in his jeans.

“Dammit…”

A husky curse word slips his lip as he works to adjust himself, before he hastily begins the task of tossing random items and tools in his backpack for the journey. It proves to be only a temporary distraction, though, because when he sneaks his next peek at Gwen, he becomes duly mesmerized all over again. She is weaving a palmful of shampoo into her silky, blonde mane and her eyes are faintly closed. Her back is also arched, and her milky complexion is sparkling brightly with quivering lines of reflected light. She’s so ethereal that he feels like a swift bolt of lightning must have finally delivered him to his Maker. However, a sharp, jagged breath boldly reminds him of his own mortality, and hence, his protruding inconvenience. He sighs aloud, thinking that it would be endlessly complicated if she knew.

Luckily for the businessman, he manages to suppress the blaze of blood scorching through his veins before she is able to air dry in the sun. She smiles shyly at him when she returns, old clothes bunched in her arms, and in turn, he disguises his amusement with his best poker face. Her long hair sways innocently from side to side as she walks past him, and into her tent to change, forcing Blake to sip water from a canteen in order to keep his mouth from running dry.

When Gwen reemerges, fully dressed, he feels that his focus is appropriately reset on the study of her tattered, paper map. Theoretically, it doesn’t seem all that far to her research station, but he understands that the landscape can be treacherous and wants to be prepared. A twinge of guilt gnaws at him for not putting his complete faith in her, however, he knows that he needs to feel like he has some kind of say over what happens. He absolutely loathes walking into anything blind. Like his business associates, she seems to gather that nuance about him so she happily feathers her hand across the small of his back as she offers up tidbits of useful information.

After twenty minutes of discussion, and one tent tear down project, Blake is giving his treed shelter a final look as they set off toward the hills.

*

The first part of the hike terrorizes his body. The rising altitude is squeezing every last wisp of air from his lungs, and his muscles now feel like wobbly balls of jelly due to the onset of fatigue. He wonders how in the hell he is going survive two full days like this, but he wisely holds his complaints because he can see that Gwen is tired, despite her incredibly positive and resilient façade.

“Wanna play a game of ten questions?”

She stirs up yet another conversation with him as she pauses to check their coordinates. He grunts, and raises a leery eyebrow at her while he folds forward in an attempt to catch his breath. Blake has managed to dodge personal inquiry from her so far, maybe due to his lack of oxygen, but he thinks that this game definitely thrusts him into the spotlight.

“Oh come on, Blake. All we have is time so we might as well get to know each other a little better...”

“I’m not that exciting, to be honest.”

He huffs a weak rebuttal, but decides in his mind that he will play. As much as he doesn’t want to talk about himself, this gives him a good opportunity to learn more about her. He sees her posture lift, and she chuckles lightly, seemingly aware that she has him on the ropes.

“Oh, I’d have to disagree about that… Here, we’ll keep it simple. Favorite food, go!”

Blake feels his stomach churn achingly so he dryly chides her about it.

“You had to start with food? Really?”

Her beautiful lips pout playfully, and the cute whine that follows takes him hook, line and sinker.

“Don’t be difficult, Blakey!”

He meets her eyes as a curious grin takes over his face. He’s been called lots of things in his adult life, but never a pet name he would label as endearing. He easily relents.

“Ok, ok… Mexican. I love chips and queso. Same question to you.”

“Well, I’m Italian, so definitely Italian. Oh my God, now I’m craving it!”

A hearty laugh erupts from his gut before the two fall into step with each other again. They trod north for only a handful of seconds before he muses out loud.

“I know a good Italian restaurant in the Houston area. I’ll take you sometime.”

The blonde stumbles almost imperceptibly, and Blake’s jaw tightens as he recognizes what just slipped from his mouth. She hesitates for an agonizing beat before pursuing the offer.

“You’d do that?”

He would, yes. But he’s not ready to admit why so he tries to navigate the situation with a splash of humor.

“Does that question count against your ten?”

Her features drop into a soft scowl, immediately signalling to him that she’s unimpressed.

“Ok, free one... Yeah, I think it’s the least I could do for the person who saved me.”

“You and I both know that I haven’t really done anything yet...”

She mumbles quietly and turns her head away from him, and Blake thinks she seems almost deflated by his reasoning. He chews his finger nervously, torn between the awful feeling of disappointing her and the repercussions of telling her the whole truth. Despite their flirty behavior and unexplainable chemistry, he’s not sure either are ready for that.

“You’ve done more than you give yourself credit for, Gwen. Your turn again…”

He touches her elbow tentatively with the tips of his fingers to bring her back. She exhales and then nods before throwing out another supposedly simple talking point.

“Tell me about your family.”

A sharp stab instantly jars his heart and radiates through his chest. It seizes him up so completely that he can’t even bring himself to tease her about the fact her question wasn’t even a question. His palm smooths over his dark, sweat-laden curls as he wonders how to casually summarize something so significant to him. It’s been years since he’s outright told anyone.

“My parents both passed when I was in my teens. My older brother… before that. I’ve been on my own since I was eighteen.”

He forces a dry cough after stating the specifics like he was reading his company’s quarterly financials. He then watches the way Gwen’s gait goes tense. Her cocoa eyes brim suddenly with tears.

“I’m sorry, Blake. I didn’t know… We don’t have to play this stupid game.”

He sighs heavily, and rubs at his sore and sunburnt neck. He can tell that she feels responsible for his pain even though it is his to deal with. He cuts the boardroom act, and speaks more openly with her.

“It’s ok. I’ve been thinking about them a lot lately actually. What’s your family like?”

A tiny smile flickers on her lips and her features become adorably animated when she starts to ramble fondly about the people in her life. He could listen to her honeyed tone for hours.

“They’re the best. My parents have been married forever and are so in love. I have a younger brother, Todd, too, who has a super rad wife and two babies. We celebrate holidays and special occasions together, and I’m just really lucky to have them.”

As her voice trails off, Blake can see a wave of sadness pass over her. She misses them, like he misses his family. A dull anger begins to simmer inside of him with the revelation that some idiot damaged her enough to drive her away from all of that. He clenches and unclenches his fists before softly distracting her.

“My turn to ask. If you could be doing anything right now, what would it be?”

Gwen hums thoughtfully as he automatically extends his hand to help her climb up a steep section of eroded earth. He thinks her skin feels delicate and smooth against his, like it did when she was caressing his wounded shoulder the day before. Their eyes catch with a glint of fervor, and her fingers linger in his until she is safely atop the natural embankment.

“If that one’s hard, you can skip. I don’t mind.”

Blake kindly offers her an out as his foot finds an exposed tree root to propel him up the same sheared edge. He wonders if, perhaps, his question was too open-ended. When his tall frame makes it to the plateau, however, she shakes her head and toys with the reflective straps of her backpack. There is an uncertainty to her gaze that sends an army of jitters marching down his spine.

“No, I can answer.”

She takes a step towards him, her voice muted and serious, and he immediately feels both his expression and mind go blank. A bit of panic rears uncomfortably in his chest. Blake takes a moment to examine her, standing there in front of him, and intrinsically grasps that whatever she has to say is going to put him at a crossroads. He prays desperately that he won’t hurt her.

“If I could be doing anything, I think I would want to be sitting in a cozy booth at an Italian restaurant, sharing a bottle of wine, and maybe even a kiss, with the man who brought me there.”

The gorgeous blonde bluntly lays out her desire for him and then bites gently at her bottom lip. Her reluctant eyes search his for a response. Blake doesn’t need to ask who the man in the scenario is. He already knows.

His blood begins to pump rapidly in an attempt to support his now racing brain, and the invisible strings he was trying to avoid circle around him and tug. The businessman owes her some words, but struggles tremendously to find the right ones.

“Gwen, I… I don’t think I’m the guy you’re looking for. I won’t lie to you. I’d like to be, but…”

He sighs, unable to complete his thought.

“But what?”

Her encouraging palms land softly on his abdomen and graze outwards until they settle on his sides. He feels his resolve crumbling.

“I dunno. This is crazy, don’t you think? We’ve known each other for a day. We’re stuck on an island and I’m the first person you’ve seen in months. I feel something with you, Gwen, but I’m an absolute mess… I just don’t want to turn out to be the same as the men you are trying to escape.”

Blake is blatantly honest when he comes clean to her. His hands flail and his tone is adamant for the whole length of his speech. He keeps his determined blue gaze steadily on her deep mocha irises, and for a second, he thinks he’s persuaded her to come to her senses. But then, he sees her mouth twitch with a rueful smirk.

“Unless you’re a self-absorbed rocker who likes to preen for hours in front of a mirror and condemn his girlfriend for not doing the same, or a serial cheater and a pathological liar, I don’t think you’ll ever be in the same league as them.”

“Shit… No. I’m not like that.”

The breath is swiped from his body as he quietly admits that he is indeed different than her past lovers. He has his issues, but he certainly can’t fathom disrespecting her in any of those ways. His fingers travel to her triceps, and stroke meaningfully over her skin.

“No one deserves that, Gwen. Why did you even put up with that crap?”

Her shoulders sag, and she shrugs defeatedly.

“I guess because I believe in love conquering all. Happy endings...”

For him, that’s not a realistic perspective, but he can at least applaud her persistence.

“Hmm, the faithful romantic, huh? I have to say that I admire how... unafraid you are.”

Gwen grimaces, and stares at the toes of their boots.

“I wouldn’t be on this island if I was unafraid, Blake. I took this research job because I put everything I had into those toxic relationships and was left with only a shell… I had to protect myself.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I don’t see a shell when I look at you. I see a caring, capable, strong minded woman who sticks to her convictions no matter how wild they are.”

He smiles tenderly as he bends his sore knees to get down to her height. When he catches her gaze, she smiles subtly, too.

“Thank you, and I’m sorry for all of this. I honestly didn’t mean to like you.”

His fingers move a rogue tendril of hair from her face before he gently murmurs to her again.

“Don’t be sorry. I’m no expert, but I think those guys failed you, Gwen. Not all men are jerks.”

She sighs powerlessly at his words.

“I know… Some people can’t be helped. Others have to be worth it. I’m just not very good at figuring out the difference.”

They regard each other closely for a second before she flips his original question on him.

“Blake, if you could be doing anything right now, what would you be doing?”

He mulls it over carefully, with the understanding that they are no longer playing some harmless game. He definitely recalls wishing that he was on a private getaway with her just this morning, but should he risk telling her that? Should he go down that road? A bashful expression skims his features as he decides to dive in.

“I’d be doing this… spending time with you. I mean, maybe I’d pick a different place, but still…”

She grins brightly at his declaration, which causes him to both swoon inside and scramble to temper her expectations.

“Look, I’ve never been good at putting myself out there, and I think you deserve better, but I’m willing to give this feeling a shot if you want to... I wanna do this properly, though so… Dinner tonight?”

“In here?! Like a date? But you don’t date!”

Gwen scans their surroundings incredulously, apparently floored by his impromptu idea. A rumbling laugh escapes his throat.

“Yes in here, and yes, a date. Give me a chance. I swear it won’t be awful…”

The rugged oil man winks conspiratorially, sending her giggling into his chest. His sinewy arms move to hold her there because somehow, it just feels wrong now to let her go. She quiets as he cradles her, and he revels in how she fits perfectly under his chin. Her citrus-scented hair works to tease his nostrils, drawing his lips inevitably closer to the top of her head. They hang there, half parted and yearnful, until he finally makes the choice to break the plane between them to ghost a light kiss. It’s his promise of sorts that he’ll drop every spare ounce of himself into this unconventional arrangement that he can. Blake knows it may not amount to much to start, but luckily, he has become very well versed in the powers of sweat equity.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh.. I got it done and posted! Whew.. Next update may be a bit but I'll do my best for you. As always, thank you for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things between Gwen and Blake begin to pick up steam...

The sensation of Blake draped all around her, with his tentative mouth hovering over her hair and his gentle fingers grazing between her backpack and tailbone, is something Gwen could get used to. It is naturally comfortable, if not exquisitely electric, despite his proclaimed list of reservations. She feels no pressure to do more than exist in the moment with him because they both seem to be merely following their hearts to wherever they might lead. In truth, it pleasantly surprises her that he would relinquish so much of himself to the unknown.

When they finally separate from each other, Gwen steals a second to look at his handsome face against the hazy backdrop of the shaded plateau. She thinks that his features appear softer now, in the filtered forest light, except for his blue eyes, which shine like sapphires through the predominantly earthy tones. She wants to mine them for their preciousness; get to know both their beauty and their imperfections. She would like to polish away the hurt scuffing them, and treasure them as her own.

“Onward?”

His low, gravelly drawl breaks the shimmery bubble suspending her from reality, and a shiver runs straight to her core. Gwen blushes, and nods as her feet suddenly register the hardness of the ground.

“Yeah… A mile should put us in good position for tomorrow I think.”

She sees his large hand kindly gesture for her to show him the way, and the pair set off further into the heart of the jungle. A precarious awkwardness quickly envelopes them and Gwen almost expects Blake to begin retracting everything wonderful he just said, given his oscillatory nature. However, he doesn’t waver in his intentions, instead choosing to ask her about her likes and dislikes as they seemingly pop into his mind.

“What do you think about flowers?”

He muses as they pass a stretch of wild, vibrantly pedaled blossoms on an easier section of path. A flurry of butterflies tickle her stomach when she answers.

“Don’t get me wrong. I love them, and I could vase up a freshly cut bunch every day of the week, but chocolate is where it’s at.”

A small, dimpled smile flickers over his scruff as he listens. He then fades into a thoughtful silence as they continue on. A few minutes later, he poses another random question.

“Dogs or cats?”

She snickers airily before deciding on her response.

“Dogs, or maybe birds? I dunno?”

He scrunches his nose with puzzled amusement, and then tosses out one more for her.

“Favorite movie?”

She twists to look at him as her cheeks quiver with an embarrassed grin.

“You can’t laugh, ok?”

“I’ll try not to...”

He half promises even though he is already chuckling lightly.

“It’s the Sound of Music.”

She quietly blurts it out, and a surprised seriousness settles over the businessman’s features before he acknowledges her selection.

“Hmm, fitting choice.”

She peers suspiciously at him because she didn’t peg him as the type to know or care about the old Hollywood classics.

“You’ve seen it?”

He reddens sheepishly as she calls his bluff.

“No, not in its entirety. I don’t watch many movies, but I do remember parts of that one because my mom loved it, too...”

Gwen notices how he winces imperceptibly when he mentions his mother, and how his gaze gets lost on some indiscriminate point of interest off in the distance shortly thereafter. She finds that her body aches for him, deeper than the physical strain she feels from the trek, and more acutely than the pain she feels from her own broken past.

“I’d like to hear more about them, and more about the younger you, when you’re ready.”

She whispers softly, and his fingers silently scoop hers up before his thumb swipes lightly over her skin. She squeezes gently in return, somewhat stunned by the fact he initiated this tender moment. Based on their previous encounters, she thinks he must at least appreciate the feeling of intimacy, but can’t come to terms with it for more than a brief spurt. It’s undoubtedly a conundrum because whenever that switch flips, Blake is the sweetest, most irresistibly sexy human she’s ever known. She grasps his hand a little tighter to show her confidence in him, before he eventually lets go.

*

After a challenging afternoon of traversing rocky, new territory, the pair decide to stop for the night near the highest peak of the overgrown island. They’ve managed to find a plot of soil that is small, yet moderately pliable and flat; perfect enough for taking up temporary shelter. Of course they have to work together to shuffle a stubborn, fallen log a couple of feet in order to make space for the tent, but it doesn’t take long before they're collapsed across the cool, damp ground for a much needed rest.

“I think the mouth of the stream should be right through those trees.”

Gwen loosely points her index finger while contemplating how she is going to possibly coax her muscles to cooperate with her again. Blake is sprawled out beside her, not looking any more spry.

“Give me a few minutes and an Advil and I’ll go fill our bottles.”

He murmurs sluggishly, causing the apt scientist to wonder about the extent of his injuries. He would typically attempt to mask his discomfort, however all of his energy appears to be gone. It’s slightly worrisome.

“I’ll go, Blake.”

She quickly sacrifices herself without a second thought, but he refutes her offer with an ephemeral smile.

“I’ve got this. I need to clean up anyways. You happen to have a razor?”

She exhales resignedly, too tired to put up a fight.

“Just a disposable, but you can have it.”

A lazy grin sweeps across his smooth lips.

“Thanks… I think my date might appreciate it if I shaved...”

She snorts disbelievingly, and tries half heartedly to sway him otherwise, knowing it’s probably a useless endeavor.

“Blake, you don’t have to do this…for me.”

“I want to, Gwen.”

His gentle words rattle around in her brain, like a frenetic pinball that can’t seem to land.

“Ok, well… I mean, for the record, I kind of think the stubble is cute...”

His dimples indent, and Gwen immediately feels his happiness mirrored upon her own face. The mention of their date has rejuvenated her spirit, and quite possibly his, too. Admittedly, she doesn’t have any set expectations for the evening, due to their lack of resources, but she has a fluttering premonition that it will be truly unforgettable. Their gazes lock for a moment before she extends a hand to help him to his feet.

“I’ll start the fire while you’re getting the water. Don’t be long, or I might start missing you...”

She teases him, and an almost undetectable flash of trepidation stirs beneath the calmer surface of Blake’s beautiful blues. It leaves Gwen mildly shaken, but it’s gone before she can really process its implications.

“I’ll be back before you know it.”

He tries to reassure her in a hushed tone, and although she thinks his words are meant to be lighthearted, they still seem to be weighing heavily on him. She quickly digs out the razor and some soap, along with the anti-inflammatory pill and a new bandage, before thrusting it all towards him uneasily.

“Here you go…”

“Pick you up in thirty?”

A strained, lopsided smile creases the corners of his mouth, and she suspects that he is aware of his inopportune blip. He cares for her, she has to remember that, especially when his demons come to haunt him.

“I’ll be ready.”

The businessman waves shyly to her before disappearing through the maze of bark and foliage. Gwen sighs fondly at his boyish charm, and then begins to fuss about how to spruce up her weathered appearance. It’s silly, considering the circumstances, but she anxiously brushes out her blonde hair and mops the day’s filth from her skin nonetheless.

*

She’s crouched by a modest fire in a tee and her old, ripped jeans when Blake returns from the stream. She heard the crunching steps of his approach, but wasn’t prepared to see him standing there, tall and sturdy like the ancient trees, so soon. Her heart thumps noisily as she openly regards his lean form and the loosely styled mess of curls atop his wet head. She notes that his beard is still in place as requested, albeit now neatly trimmed. He’s an instant presence, even if he doesn’t know it, and it sparks a burning passion deep within her gut.

“Welcome back. I thought I’d start our dinner. It’s not much, but I threw together some island greens with a splash of coconut oil and mixed nuts, and I’m warming up a stale chunk of cornbread I made from my last supply drop.”

“And I was going to sweep you off to a fancy restaurant…”

A relaxed smile touches his eyes before he spins away to exchange his bath items for a blanket.

“Can I take you somewhere?”

He softly asks and Gwen pauses, debating whether it would be safe or not to leave the hot flames. As if reading her mind, he answers her unspoken question.

“The soil is damp, and you have rocks lining it. It will be fine. We’ll just eat and come straight back. I promise it’s not far.”

It doesn’t take much persuading from him before she’s nodding wholeheartedly in agreement. She’s fascinated to see what he’s got in mind.

“Ok, I’m all yours.”

Blake tilts his head and raises a brow brazenly for half a second, and she thinks the look on his face is rather covetous. He breathes a gentle warning as he stuffs the blanket into his bag.

“Careful now.”

She salivates with arousal, and hastily begins to gather their meager meal into two, stainless bowls. Blake then leads her a hundred paces through greenery and vines to an unassuming spot in the trees.

“Pass me the food, please, and hang on to the hem of my shirt.”

Gwen does as instructed, and all of a sudden the buzz of the wilderness gets increasingly amplified. There are thousands of birds, insects, reptiles and amphibians, all singing about love, death, need and loss in mysterious code. Her fingers clench tightly around the material covering Blake’s waist as he squeezes them through one last veil of leaves, and she realizes immediately where the vibrant sound is coming from.

“Whoa…”

They are perched on a hidden cliff edge jutting out from the side of the hill. Part of the stream is visible in the opening below them and so is the vast, orange sky above. Everything is so clear and unmuffled, and it causes the tiny hairs on her forearms to tingle with amazement.

“I caught a glimpse of this place from down there, and thought you might like it.”

The vibration of his silky voice against her fingers snaps her back to reality, and she adjusts her slack jaw so that it won’t catch any flies. She then registers that her hands have subconsciously moved from his shirt tales to his midsection as she traces his bottom rib in awe. She peeks past his shoulder at the spectacular view once more, before whispering warmly into his clothed skin.

“It’s incredible… stunning.”

He hums affectionately before adding his own opinion.

“Yeah, it is. Reminds me that you can’t always see the beauty of life if you’re stuck in the weeds. Sit down with me?”

She nods lightly, and instinctively takes the bowls back from him as he turns to slip off his grey pack. He then pulls the blanket out of its depths and lays it down over the prolific spread of fountain grasses. Gwen watches him ease himself to the ground before she passes him his dinner, serendipitously noticing that the only space left for her is in between his lanky legs. She smiles and cuddles in.

At first, not much is said. Amidst bites of salad and the breathtaking scenery, they both seem to be acclimatizing to their changed environment. It’s refreshingly serene and casual, but Gwen can’t deny the mounting tension lurking in the shadows of it all. She feels the heat radiating in the gap separating his chest from her back, and is deliciously aware of the way her body melts when his thumbs begin to gently massage at her neck after their food is gone.

“Good so far?”

Blake’s soothing tone dances in her ear, and she lets her head fall back, closer to his lips. Her hair pools on his shoulder as she murmurs an affirmative.

“Mmm, yes. You’re a bit of a Casanova.”

He laughs quietly, and shifts his weight.

“That’s never my intention, Gwen. Chivalrous, maybe, but you know I don’t chase women for fun.”

His arms loop around her and she considers his statement while she plays with his fingers, caressing each of them knuckle to nail. She has always assumed that he was experienced with women, but also believed him when he said that he prefers to keep his distance from them. It suddenly hits her why he may have taken her innocent joke to heart.

“Commitment. You stay away from women because you can’t commit...”

The words are out of her mouth before she can filter them, and she feels a subsequently sharp breath of air whip past her cheek and into his lungs. One of his anxious hands moves from her lap to his curls as she listens to a nearby tree frog bellow in the heavy silence. There are four, painful croaks before Blake attempts a reply.

“It’s more complicated than that...”

Her analytical brain sifts through all of the data and observations, trying to connect the dots and truly understand. The frog croaks again, and she clutches impulsively at his knee in order to swivel her body to look at him.

“Blake, do you hear that frog?”

“Yeah…”

A dubious expression paints his features so she quickly expands before he has the opportunity to shut down.

“Frogs are solitary creatures. They tolerate other frogs, but they don’t create any lasting connections. Even when they mate, they rarely ever do it twice with the same partner.”

Deep furrows mark his brow line and a strained, but curious, huffing sound sneaks out of his mouth.

“Are you implying that I’m like a frog?”

Her eyes widen as she scrambles to clarify her theory, but she catches an impish twinkle in his baby blues.

“No. Well sort of. I don’t want you to be a frog.”

She releases a defeated sigh just as Blake begins to shake his head with a grin. She thinks he should be at least a little upset with her for dissecting his character, and for comparing him to a four legged critter, but surprisingly, he seems to find her analogy amusing.

“Don’t stop now. I’m very interested in this evolutionary tangent of yours.”

He encourages her to continue with only a hint of sarcasm. Gwen pauses, and sets her gaze on the tranquil horizon before obliging. She manages to sum up all of her worries for him in two, softly spoken questions.

“Why don’t you have meaningful relationships with women, Blake? How do I know I won’t be just another girl you'll never see again?”

She’s shaking now; her body unable to contain both the adrenaline and the raw emotion rushing through it. She’s spent a lifetime brushing the hard topics under the rug, and she can’t, won’t, do that with him. Her timing may be awful, but this feels too important not to be honest. Blake tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and buries his nose into the hollow above her collarbone before he starts his answer.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone like you’ve been hurt, Gwen. You’re right, I’ve got commitment issues, but it’s not because I ever wanted to sleep around. There is a big difference between sex and love, and I haven’t been able to let anyone get close enough to love me because... I’ve lost everyone I’ve ever loved.”

Blake’s voice breaks near the end as he fights back a wave of anguish. She realizes that he is coming apart, yet she is too stunned to move. Slowly, though, she summons the courage to reach behind her and stroke his neck. He swallows hard before finishing.

“But, you… you are different... I can’t keep you away and I can’t stay away. I’ve tried to warn you. I’ve tried pushing the feelings aside. I never would have imagined it, but this feels undeniable, Gwen. For the first time, I want to take a chance.”

She flips onto her knees so that she can cup his cheeks and stare sensually at his enchanting face. The tide is in, and it cleanses her and makes her feel brand new.

“If a relationship was going to kill me, it would have happened by now. Go for it, Blake. I’m a tough cookie.”

She smiles through a few tears as his palms claim her hips. They boldly venture north along her sides, causing her breath to hitch, before grazing back downward again. She watches his tempestuous eyes intently until they finally surrender to the pleasure. He starts to lean in, let himself go, so she uses her gentle hands to guide him to her lips. Their mouths meet tentatively, and it feels epic, like the heavens could be opening after a long, fruitless drought. She moans her approval before Blake presses a little more into her, flooding her synapses with rampant desire. She encourages him to go deeper by threading her fingers into his wavy locks. Their kiss transitions from soft and smooth, to needy and exploratory, almost effortlessly as they burn away some of the last moments of daylight. When both are completely out of air, the businessman collapses over top of her in a stirring embrace. More sweet pecks get clustered on her shoulder as he mumbles into her skin.

“Am I still a frog?”

She giggles demurely and shakes her head.

“No, I think you may be more of a prince.”

He kisses her again chastely on the temple, and sighs.

“We should get back to the tent before it gets too late. It feels like it could rain.”

The pair reluctantly collects their things and Blake holds her hand steadfastly in his for the short walk to camp. The bond they’ve forged lingers in his grip, giving her the impression that it is really him and her now, linked as one team. She’s never felt more protected, or absurdly giddy about what her future might entail. Could she finally have this right?

She follows Blake to the tiny space between the glowing embers of the fire and the nylon shelter, where he promptly casts his grey bag aside. Her veins swim with anticipation as she realizes that he’s not yet done with the night. He swiftly spins her body into his and raises their tangled fingers so that they rest against his heart. A sultry look from her draws him in, and their lips touch briefly before his whiskers tickle her cheek and they begin to sway.

“For here you are, standing there, loving me, whether or not you should, so somewhere in my youth or childhood, I must’ve done something good...”

Blake hums the lines simply and stoically and the blood immediately drains from her face. Her lungs shrivel and constrict until she finally forces herself to draw a deep breath. He’s quoting her favorite scene from The Sound of Music, the one she knows backwards, forwards, and inside out; the one that gives her hope. It can’t be a coincidence, could it?

Gwen pulls her head away from his in order to search his dark, marine eyes for a hint. Blake doesn’t try to hide from her, and suddenly she implicitly understands. His words are always chosen well.

She smiles tenderly and tips back into him to complete the verse.

“Nothing comes from nothing. Nothing ever could.”

She could see herself loving him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of your motivating comments, and for taking time to read this crazy piece! I do have some more roughly drafted out, but I'm starting to rethink a bit of what I've wrote... Bear with me while I get the next part straightened out ;)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometime once you start, it's hard to slow the roll...
> 
> *Smut alert*

Nothing comes from nothing.

Blake ponders the age old philosophical concept while he holds Gwen close to his broad frame. It mystifies him to think that somewhere, somehow, he could have planted the tiny, cracked seeds that would eventually grow into this beautiful moment. Those seeds never should have proliferated, given that they were left untended and shrouded in darkness, but her warmth, her magic, has made the impossible possible.

“Stay with me tonight.”

She whispers seductively in his ear, breaking his train of thought and whetting his appetite beyond anything he’s ever experienced. He immediately feels his blood pulse furiously against his skin, begging for exit, as her enticing undertones turn his brain to mush.

“It wouldn’t be right.”

He hears himself say almost reflexively, and if he could punch himself, he would. She tenses slightly under his touch until his palms circle her lower spine in apology.

“It feels right…”

Her soft voice urges him to change his mind, and when he gazes into her rich, mocha eyes he can’t even begin to disagree. If he’s honest, it is the prospect of his nightmares holding him back. He hasn’t told Gwen about them, and he’s afraid that they will mar their perfect evening.

“Mmm, I’ll tuck you in and kiss you goodnight, but I don’t sleep well, baby...”

He nuzzles into her blonde hair for a moment before his fingers slide temptingly downward, over the curve of her behind. As he caresses her figure, he feels her silky sound vibrate naughtily over the torn fibres of his wound.

“Then we won’t sleep...”

He grunts brokenly at her words as his hips defy him and push gently against her abdomen. Her expression flickers with intrigue when she registers his hardness, and all he can do is throw caution to the wind.

“I’ve only got one condom in my wallet, and it’s probably junk...”

A small, buttery laugh erupts from her.

“Blake, I’m clean and protected, if that’s what you are worried about.”

With one imploring glance, he succumbs to her by burying his mouth into the crook of her neck. He begins to nip and suck lightly at her skin, testing the waters and her mood. His actions quickly earn him several whimsical gasps so he continues lazily along her muscle line toward the base of her ear. When he licks over her pulse point, he dials things up a notch by shuffling them back against a nearby tree. The bit of friction feels almost unbearable on his bruises, but he presses passionately into her anyways, teasing her clothed breasts and groin with his weight. Her lips immediately find his, while her nails scrape aimlessly at the bark overhead. His forearm shifts to pin her wrists there, as their tongues dip and dive more urgently than before. She eventually bucks against his throbbing erection, causing Blake to realize that he isn’t going to last much longer like this. He releases her hands and locks onto her blown, chocolate eyes before stammering huskily.

“Gwen… I…”

She nods, and immediately unbuttons his jeans. He does the same for her, and they both hastily discard boots in order to slip out of their bottoms. His heart hammers relentlessly in his chest and admittedly, he feels borderline drunk until he looks up to see her standing there in the glow of the firelight wearing only her t-shirt and underwear. The world stops.

“God, you’re beautiful.”

“So are you.”

She replies and smiles adoringly at him, giving him the confidence he needs to go ahead and loop his fingers into the lacy piece of fabric covering her most private area. He then wriggles the scant barrier down her legs as he walks them back against their tree. She quickly peels off his shirt while his palms skim intermittently over her thighs, and when the blonde grips temptingly at his bare biceps, he dares to part her folds and tease her. Blake studies how her heated eyes flicker and close under the swirling pressure, and how her neck goes gracefully slack as the dark sky begins to open up on them. He repeats the movements that make her shiver and swallow hard for both their satisfaction. A drizzle of rain starts to mix with the pool of sweat on his shoulder blades, stinging his unhealed cuts, but he keeps his focus until her moans are rivaling those of the distant thunder.

“Let go…”

He quietly encourages Gwen to fall apart on him, and when she readily complies, it almost proves to be his own undoing. The businessman has to free himself from his boxers for relief, however, it’s largely futile because her slick hand reaches out to stroke him and learn him. It draws a needy whimper from the very depths of his throat.

“I’m ready if you are.”

She lets go of him so that he can collect himself, and he realizes then that this one moment with her is going to be worth exponentially more than the balance in his bank account. He hasn’t even entered her, yet he feels like it’s going to be the beginning of something spectacular. The pad of her finger traces tenderly over his wet cheek so that his dimples rut softly, and he replies by kissing away the raindrop on the bridge of her nose. He then hoists her tiny frame up against the solid trunk so that he can angle his tip into her. She inhales sharply just as he releases a stunned breath.

“Ok?”

He whispers worriedly, but she raggedly reassures him of her state of well being.

“Better than ok...”

Blake smiles and starts to establish a rhythm until he is buried deep within her walls. It feels warm and tight, like a favorite blanket, and he can’t think of a more comfortable place to be. He savors the sensation as he thrusts purposively, working her body to the point of frenzied cries. He notices that she is trying hard not to squeeze him or scratch him in the process, but he doesn’t mind her touch; it’s absolving and healing.

“Almost there…”

She pants in his ear as salt and sex and atmospheric liquid linger in the air, and he’s endlessly grateful that she is building to a quick release, too. He pounds forward with all his might until he hears her high-pitched scream shake the protective canopy above. He then bursts with blinding pleasure himself, while supporting her limp body in his arms.

“Jesus.”

It’s all he can think to say after such an overwhelming encounter. If he wasn’t spent from trying to survive, he’s definitely spent now. He takes a minute to memorize the feeling of being intimately joined with her before using the last of his strength to gently pull out. He then places an airy kiss in her golden hair.

“Thank you, pretty girl.”

Gwen sighs contentedly, and responds in a decidedly raspy voice.

“It’s obviously been awhile, but I don’t ever remember it being like that. Oh my God.”

He chuckles proudly.

“Me neither, baby. That was something special.”

Blake bends to pick up his soggy boxers with the intention of getting himself dressed, and a flash of panic immediately drifts through her eyes. He suspects that she’s scared that he is going to withdraw now, and he doesn’t really blame her for that, so he provides an explanation before she can ask.

“I have to make sure that this bit of rain put out the fire. I’ll be inside soon.”

“Promise?”

He nods succinctly, causing her to reluctantly grab clothes and their backpacks and crawl into the tent alone. When she is safely out of sight, he slips on his shirt and begins to douse the rocky pit for any leftover sparks. His heart races erratically.

What did he just do?  
Did he cross the line between sex and love?

He smells her heavenly scent on his steaming skin and feels the ghost of her still pressed against him. His brain tries to juggle the supernatural sensation.

Could she have invaded his soul and breached his fences without a sound?  
Did he actually fall in love with her in only the blink of an eye?

It seems insane to think about because she doesn’t know him per se, but she undoubtedly sees him better than anyone. Of course he always thought that he could control love from happening to him, but it appears now that he barely had a say.

He shakes his head crazily at this development and listens to the passing storm for a minute before ultimately deciding to abandon the elements in order to slide in beside his girl. The complete lack of space makes him feel short of breath and mildly claustrophobic, but her hand brushing across his belly calms him down. He quickly extends his arm so that she can roll tighter to his side, and as she nuzzles happily under his jaw, he confesses.

“Listen, ever since the crash, I’ve been having terrible flashbacks. Ones that make me sweat, and toss and turn in my sleep. I shouldn’t have ordered that flight, Gwen. It feels like my fault. I don’t deserve any of this. You. I’m trying to make sense of it, but kick me out of here if you have to. I’ll understand.”

She stops and props herself up on an elbow so that she is hovering over him. Her perceptive gaze drills into his vulnerable blues.

“Blake, is that why you wouldn’t… Wow, no. I’m not sending you back out there. I want you here. We’ll work through it if the nightmares happen.”

“They’re bad, baby…”

Salt bites the corners of his eyes at the mere recollection, and Gwen shushes him quietly as her free hand moves to stroke through his wild hair.

“I can’t imagine what you’ve been through.”

The eighteen year old dam crumbles and breaks, and all of a sudden tears are streaming down his cheeks. Her thumb swiftly wicks them away as her mouth presses soft kisses into his skin. He swears she’s an angel.

“You don’t need all of this baggage. What am I doing?”

He spouts gloomily, causing her brow to furrow and her teeth to scrape slowly over her bottom lip. He thinks her voice is rightfully edgy when she confronts him about it.

“We all have baggage so are you done with pushing me away?”

“I don’t mean to. I just...Fuck.”

He wipes at his face out of frustration as he stumbles on how to explain his undying indebtedness to her. She’s so far out of his league and she has no idea.

“Blake, I have to ask. Are you running, or taking a chance here? I can’t keep up with your feelings…”

He sees her stare sadly at the shiny, silver zipper of the exit, and then at him.

“No, I’m not running… I… I… God, Gwen, I think I might be in love with you...”

He impulsively says the one word he has never uttered to a woman before, and hardly a sound can be heard in the tent, or otherwise. It’s so silent that he wonders what happened to the choir of wildlife, or the rain and the thunder that just recently rumbled overhead. He swallows, and sneaks an apprehensive look at her, debating whether or not he would take back the declaration if he could. He realizes it was incredibly fast, but in his heart of hearts he is at least relieved that she knows.

Gwen doesn’t immediately say anything to him, and he honestly didn’t expect her to after his unintended ambush, but the way in which she abruptly attacks his body speaks volumes. Blake can only lose himself in her love making, moaning and groaning cathartically as she carefully strips away damp clothes. She worships him with her mouth before she begins to ride him, her figure now completely naked and uninhibited around his hips. His fingers seize the opportunity to explore her peaks until they eventually have to dig in on her ass. Her pace is so agonizingly deliberate that he guesses that their feelings may be mutual, whether she tells him so or not. Their eyes meet one final time before they hit their climax together, and then everything explodes into flashes of white, and black.

“I’m falling for you, too, Blake, so no more thinking you aren’t good enough, ok? Please. I’m giving myself to you so don’t run from this without allowing yourself the opportunity to be… loved. The truth is I can’t lose you, either.”

He vaguely remembers her whispering to him before he mumbled incoherently and fell asleep. He wakes only once thereafter, gasping for air and drenched in sweat, but her soft snores remind him of his whereabouts and quickly settle him down.

“Sorry… I’m sorry.”

He mutters into the darkness and passes out again with his hand splayed across her thigh. The big businessman doesn’t shift so much as another inch for the entire duration of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for every one of your kind comments and for being patient with me. I actually didn't end up changing much in this chapter, but life got a little busy. Sorry!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The "morning after" challenges Gwen in ways she's never experienced...

“Blakey...”

Gwen moans his name groggily when she recognizes the feel of his cool, slick skin on hers. Somewhere in the cobwebs of her brain, she’s surprised that he’s still lying there, but she isn’t really awake enough to question it. A fuzzy cloud floats through her consciousness as she slowly opens her eyes, and for a moment, the encompassing obliviousness is warm and wonderful. That is until a sizeable pit makes its presence known in her stomach.

“Blake…”

She whispers more urgently this time as the early morning light gets brighter, and the events of the previous night sharpen in her memory. She slept with him. She made love to him. They dared to board a roller coaster together and it sent them into a euphoric free fall, as well as wrenched them with some unexpected twists. For the adventurous blonde, the experience was dizzying, if not perfectly mind blowing, and it all culminated in her being rendered speechless at the pinnacle point of their ride.

He committed to her.  
Even if her history, and his, said it was impossible, he used that elusive, four letter word.

“Shit… Blake!”

She half shouts his name despite his close proximity, fuelled by the need to talk this revelation through. Of course, she tried to explain her muddled thoughts to him before he drifted off to sleep, but she isn’t sure that he heard her, or understood the message hidden between the lines.

“Blake?”

Gwen lifts her head to peer at him when it clicks that he hasn’t yet startled or roused. She instantly deems his expression to be peaceful, bordering almost uncomfortably on aloof, which doesn’t feel right to her at all. She shifts a tentative palm over top his bruised chest where she detects only the faintest of breaths.

“No… NO!”

Her heart plummets into her stomach and her grip moves instinctively to his shoulders as she scrambles to prop herself up. She shakes her lover once, firmly, but his neck only flops listlessly against the curve of her hands. His lids remain closed, sparking a hysteria within her.

“Baby, you have to wake up!”

She reaches frantically for water to sponge his face with, and starts to consider whether or not she should sprint through the jungle for her phone.

“Blake, I need your help. Talk to me, please!”

“C’mon… Blake, don’t do this!”

Her voice is pointed and pitched before it eventually becomes desperate and cracked.

“I’m not joking, baby. Open your eyes...”

“Blake…”

She traces his jawline gently, pleading with him until she finally comes to terms with the fact that he isn’t going to answer her. He isn’t going to respond. She then collapses onto his body in a mess of regret and tears.

She was supposed to save him.  
She promised she’d get him out of here.  
Think, Gwen!

She kisses his crooked nose, his pink mouth, his smooth forehead, while she racks her brain for a plan. She decides that she won’t leave him, he wouldn’t want that, but can’t for the life of her figure out what else to do. She cries some more, and by stroke of luck, or divine intervention, her bloodshot eyes spy his grey bag pressed into the corner of the tent. She wonders if it could hold any clues. Her trembling hands begin to rifle through the contents until they land on his dead cellphone and a collection of frayed wire.

Just maybe…

The scientist has only ever heard of it being done in theory, but if there was a time to wing an experiment, she thinks this would undoubtedly be it. She quickly searches the tent for her industrial flashlight, wanting the six volt battery housed within its plastic. When she finds it, she gives Blake’s fingers a hopeful squeeze.

“Wish me luck…”

She then slips outside to the open air, materials in tow.

Gwen’s first order of business is to examine the sheathing on the wires. For this Hail Mary to count, she needs to be able to determine their polarity. It takes her a few minutes, but when she thinks she has it, she uses Blake’s jackknife to cut out the two, small sections of coiling required for the job. One coppery end gets wrapped around each terminal of her battery, and all of a sudden, she feels as if she’s half way there.

Next, a flat sampling tool pries the backing off the businessman’s dead device, exposing its lithium power source to the sun. The blonde stares intently at the inconspicuous, little piece, knowing that her final step could very well blow it up, or shock her with misplaced electricity. In fact, a thousand, awful possibilities begin to stream through her mind, however, none seem to impact her as much as the thought of losing Blake.

She will have to trust her intuition on this.

With one last look at the shadow of him lumped in her tent, Gwen inhales deeply and takes the plunge. She matches the free ends of the wires to their corresponding contacts on the cell battery, effectively completing her simple circuit. The researcher immediately shudders and braces herself for a reaction, but over thirty seconds tick away uneventfully. She holds her breath and counts off fifteen more seconds before the tiny, black box actually starts to feel warm to the touch. At this, she squeals excitedly aloud.

“It’s working!”

She lets the device charge briefly and then abruptly disconnects it from her setup, worried that it might melt or combust under the newly surging heat. A rush of adrenaline flows through her veins as she subsequently races to reassemble the phone and check in on Blake. Surprisingly, the big man is grunting sporadically, but still doesn’t appear to be coherent or responsive.

“Blake! Oh my God. Stay awake! Give me your hand. I think I did it!”

She powers on the device and uses his print to unlock the screen, anxious to accomplish her goal of reaching someone before anything else goes wrong.

“Who should I pick? Who ARE all these people…”

She scrolls aimlessly through the businessman’s recent contacts and settles on Kevin. She doesn’t know him from Adam, but Blake seems to talk to him a lot. She taps on his name resolutely, before realizing that there is no available cell signal where they are. She sighs, and sucks in a frustrated breath, as she scrambles back outside. The silver phone then gets waved frantically around in the air until her gaze hits the trees.

Their spot. The cliff.

Gwen darts into the thick terrain, ripping at vines and knocking away branches that fall in her path. She manages to retrace her and Blake’s steps right to the mystical veil of leaves. With lungs burning, she emerges onto the grassy shelf where the view is expansive and the sky, unending.

One bar.

She swipes at the screen so it won’t go black on her, and quickly places her call. It barely rings before a concerned voice greets her on the line.

“Blake?! Holy hell. Where are you?”

“Kevin? Hi, my name is Gwen. Listen, this phone is going to die, but Blake was in a crash and needs medical help. Like now.”

She spews the words insistently only to be left with a staticky pause.

“Hello?”

Kevin gasps audibly and snaps to, responding in an adamant jumble.

“So he is alive? Jesus. We’ve got people out looking for him. It took us a couple days to notice and get things coordinated, but we haven’t been able to locate the signal from the damn transmitter… Where is he? Where are you?”

She peeks at her GPS watch and reads him off the coordinates.

“The plane went down a few miles from here, near the beach. The pilot didn’t make it and the transmitter could have ended up in the water for all I know. Blake needs help, Kevin, soon, or else we’ll lose him.”

She hears the man draw a tense breath before he tries to reassure her.

“Ma’am, I’ve got the details. I’m on it. Leave the phone on as long as you can so I can keep tracing it. Take care of him.”

Tears threaten to spill out of her ducts as she nods meekly and hangs up the phone. She’s done her part. It’s all up to Kevin now.

*

Two hours pass by, and in that time Gwen organizes his belongings, gets his pants on and tries to give him reasons to keep living. She sets up vigil beside him, combing her fingers softly through his hair, while listening and waiting for his rescuers. She’s beginning to drown in what ifs and blame when she finally hears the chopper overhead.

“Blake, they’re here. They’re going to get you to a hospital.”

She bursts out of the tent and back to the cliff just as the helicopter lands by the stream. She yells for their attention even though she knows she can’t be heard over the whooshing of the blades. Two medics eventually climb out so she tries again at peak volume, and one immediately eyes her up on the hill. He points to her, before he and his partner grab a portable stretcher and hurry off in her direction.

When the two professionals locate the campsite, they quickly swoop in to check Blake’s vitals. They then begin the tedious task of securing his large frame to the thinly cushioned board. Gwen doesn’t miss the worried glances exchanged as they talk quietly about getting an IV in, and also, about gut churning terms like infection, fever, and loss of blood.

“Will you be escorting him?”

The female medic asks when she starts to jog beside them with only the businessman’s things.

“I can? You’ll let me?”

In the heat of the madness, Gwen never thought about the prospect of her going with him. Typically, the men in her life just leave in one way or another, and this situation appeared to be shaping up as more or less the same. She owes herself this chance, though, doesn’t she?

The woman shoots her a knowing glance, and muses with a shrug.

“I sort of assumed you both needed rescuing?”

An enlightened smile quickly graces the blonde’s features.

“Yes, we did. I do.”

*

Gwen watches helplessly as the medics pump Blake with fluids and give him oxygen in an attempt to keep him stable through the duration of their trip back to the United States. He makes it through the fuel stop, and then onto the rooftop of the hospital in Texas where the crew was instructed to land. There is an immediate flurry of activity around him before he is rushed off to surgery and she realizes only after he is gone that she didn’t get the opportunity to say goodbye.

Gwen’s fragile fingers pull at her knotted, blowing hair as the weight of the last week comes crashing down on her. She thought she knew about being alone out there on that isolated island, but it isn’t remotely comparable to the emptiness she feels right now, in the bustle of his big city.

She needs to see his baby blues again.  
She needs him to pull through.  
She needs to know that what he said wasn’t a result of sickness or delirium because she can’t fathom facing heartbreak again so soon.

Helpful hands shuffle her off the tarmac and into a furnished alcove as soft voices whisper niceties to her, but none of it really pierces her murky daze until one familiar tone drifts by her ears.

“Kevin?”

The short, dark-haired man stops in the hallway, and studies her, seemingly taking in her shambled state.

“Ma’am? Gwen?”

She nods, and stands to meet him, sniffing subtly in an attempt to collect her wits.

“Blake… He’s in surgery.”

He touches her shoulder with a genuine look of empathy.

“Yes, I’m aware. It could be a little while yet before we get an update. Trust me, though. These doctors are the very best.”

She sighs defeatedly, and fiddles with the steel railing adorning the wall to her left.

“Is he going to be ok?”

His dark eyes settle on hers before he responds honestly.

“I can’t answer that, but I hope so.”

Her legs weaken as she squeezes the shiny fixture even tighter. Kevin seems to notice her paling knuckles so he keeps the conversation going, effectively preventing her from falling to her knees right there on that hard, sterile floor.

“By the way, thank you for all that you’ve done... The authorities have found the plane, and will return the pilot’s remains and do a full investigation in due time. I’ve got to inform some board of directors of the developments shortly, but if I can set you up with a hotel, flight, or even fresh clothing, please let me know. Mr. Shelton would be disappointed if I didn’t extend these courtesies.”

She smiles half-heartedly.

“Thank you, but I want to stay here for now. He shouldn’t be alone. He didn’t think anyone would ever come…”

A curiousness lights Kevin’s eyes despite the waves of stress radiating from his face, and when he chuckles softly, it sounds almost bittersweet.

“I see. That does sound like Blake. He can play the cynic sometimes, and does have a knack for self-deprecation.”

Gwen finds herself giggling gently in agreement.

“How long have you known him?”

Kevin ponders for a moment, and then describes their long association.

“I’ve worked with him in some capacity for ten years now. Been his personal assistant for the last five. He’s a friend, Gwen. Just one in a million. Smart, generous, and about as humble as you can get. Everyone loves him, despite what he thinks.”

Her smile beams a tad brighter and more convincing this time around.

“Yeah, I could see that... Will you find me when the doctors have news, please?”

He nods, and leans in to chastely kiss her cheek.

“Of course... Listen, they’re preparing a private room for him. Why don’t you go shower there and I’ll send some things up for you to change into. You might as well use it while you wait. He’d want that.”

A warm shower sounds incredibly tempting to her, and a quieter spot out of the drone of the general public also has its appeal, so she readily accepts Kevin’s kind offer. He happily gives her the room number and some basic directions with the promise that he’ll sign off all permissions for access on his way out the door.

*

Gwen is praying over her lover’s empty, white sheets in a slightly baggy hoodie and some tight, black capris when Kevin pokes his head in. He’s discreet, but she can still sense that he is there. She turns to look at him slowly, expectantly, as a mountainous lump forms in her throat. He smiles cautiously.

“Blake’s in recovery, and I’m about to meet with the surgeon if you’d like to join me...”

She immediately springs to her feet, while nodding vigorously. Tears of relief prick her puffy, red eyes. He’s alive. He’s still fighting.

“Yes… I want to come! Thank you! I need to hear...”

She quickly links one of her arms through Kevin’s and clings tightly to him for support. He proceeds to lead her down the hall and into a bland meeting room where they settle nervously on a worn, olive colored sofa. A balding man not much older than Blake enters the space not long after, clutching a medical chart. Kevin stands to shake his free hand, so Gwen politely follows suit.

“Well, Mr. Canady, Ms. Stefani, I’ll cut to the chase. It was very lucky that Mr. Shelton arrived when he did. We found some internal hemorrhaging that was no doubt caused by the blunt trauma he experienced, and as a result, the cavities around his organs were filling with fluid at an unusually delayed rate. I mean sometimes people can function for hours or days with this particular condition, but I have to admit that this case certainly defies the odds.”

One in a million.

Kevin’s words echo in her brain, as every last cell in her body seizes at what could have been. Her voice gets marginally higher when she asks the man to confirm the only thing she really needs to know.

“But you fixed it?! He’s going to be ok?”

The doctor smiles calmly.

“Yes, we’ve been able to stop the bleeding so our hope now is that his symptoms will clear with continued care and rest. I imagine he was experiencing some significant pain, shortness of breath, and possibly even fainting or confusion prior to him losing consciousness. I’m confident that we’ve got that all under control now.”

The surgeon adjusts his gaze to Kevin as he methodically continues his review.

“Beyond that, he also has two, cracked ribs and a serious laceration stretching from his sternum to the glenohumeral joint. In fact, this wound appears to be the stem of his infection. He’s on antibiotics now, and we’re going to recommend that he be sedated for the next 24 to 48 hours to promote overall healing.”

Gwen’s empty stomach lurches with a wave of nausea and bile quickly sears her esophageal lining. She literally has no idea how Blake managed to do it. He walked, he climbed, he lifted, he built, and he seamlessly dealt with her, despite the severity of his injuries. She feels Kevin’s hand touch her lower back, and she turns to him in a state of shock. With one sidelong glance at her truthful eyes, she thinks that he could guess everything. He asks the doctor one final question.

“When can we see him?”

“Ah yes, he should be in his room within the hour, but I don’t expect that he’ll be awake often, or even lucid, while he’s sedated.”

Kevin nods coolly, and extends his palm.

“Thank you again for all that you’ve done.”

The man pats Kevin softly on the shoulder and steps toward the doorway in preparation for his exit.

“Please, if there is anything else, don’t hesitate to track me down.”

The surgeon’s voice then fades into the hall, and Gwen suddenly realizes that she’s feeling incredibly exposed. She fiddles with the front pocket of her hoodie until Blake’s assistant spins to stare at her. His expression is not accusatory, but it's definitely insistent.

“I’m going to book you a hotel room, and you’re going to go with me to the cafeteria to eat. I’ll also put a hold on visitors so that you can stay with Blake at your leisure. I don’t need to know the details of what happened out there, that’s your business, but I’m not blind, Gwen. You did more than just save him...”

Her face flushes red as she peers up at the ceiling for a moment’s reprieve. She then meets Kevin’s eyes dead on.

“Two days and I fell in love with him.”

He hums affirmatively and strokes at his thick, dark beard before she is able to tack on the other half of the equation.

“And I think, Kevin, that he might have fallen in love with me, too...”

She sees his brow scrunch and his head tilt, almost imperceptibly. He opens his mouth once, but wisely closes it again when he fails to produce any words. Gwen sighs audibly at his reaction.

“I know... he said it was crazy. He said he never involves himself in relationships...”

She thinks for a second that he is going to add to her list of reasons why this, of all things, doesn’t make any sense; reasons why she should start to insulate herself for the epic disaster that is about to occur. But he doesn’t. He only shrugs.

“Not everything is scientific, I suppose...”

She laughs then.

“No, I guess it isn’t.”

“Hungry?”

Her stomach rumbles on queue, causing her to smile shyly at Kevin. He grins back, and she recognizes that this may be the first time she’s felt even a bit relaxed since she woke up this morning beside Blake on the island.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, we're almost at the end... And I have yet to write the final chapter so even I don't know what happens from here... :)
> 
> As always, thank you for reading!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is way overdue... but better late than never I guess :)

A gloomy darkness shrouds him, and Blake can’t quite figure out how to move past it until a muffled, intermittent sound begins to beckon him from a distance. It’s strangely sweet and so alluring to him that his instincts want to trust it to show him the way out of his purgatory. However, the harder he strives to follow it, the faster it fades from his ears. His brain can’t seem to keep up to it, and his limbs only stutter and stall beneath him as if they’ve been filled with cement.

It’s of no use.

Panic starts to fester in his body just before a wispy calm sweeps through his veins like a soft summer breeze. The spidering warmth pushes away the clouds of black surrounding him and wipes clean every last worry on his mind.

*

The next time the sweet sound dances into Blake’s stream of consciousness, it’s crisper and so near to him that he swears he could see the woman if it wasn’t for the fog. He grasps tightly to each of her soothing words, afraid that she’ll drift away from him again, until he senses her feathery touch in his hair.

A woman.

Her.

Gwen.

Quick flashes of their time together swim through his memory as he becomes increasingly aware of the dull throb in his chest and the thin linens and wires agitating his skin. He guesses that he must be confined to a hospital bed, yet he has no actual recollection of what happened to him. Confused, he dares to open his eyes.

“Blake…”

He blinks and glances quickly around the room to assess his situation. There are too many monitors, medical contraptions, and shades of white to count.

Definitely a hospital.

He watches his own heart rate increase on a screen for a half a second before he settles his glassy gaze back on Gwen. Her chocolate brown irises are as transparent as he remembers them.

She’s stunned. She’s tired. She’s relieved.

And she’s here. With him.

He attempts a small smile because his throat feels too dry and scratchy to say anything yet. Tears immediately well up along her lashes and for some reason, it strikes him as adorably amusing. He tries to chuckle at her, but it comes out as more of a sputtering cough.

“I should get the doctor...”

The legs of Gwen’s chair squeak abruptly against the waxy floor of his room when she shifts away from his bed. To both of their surprise, though, Blake manages to catch her trailing hand before she has the opportunity to venture too far. He then shakes his head softly at her.

“No? You don’t want the doctor?”

He pulls some tape and tube from the scruffy surface around his mouth, emitting a pained rasp as he does so. His actions likely defy the best advice of his doctor, however he’s never been good with rules.

“No.”

The one word he hastily whispers is enough to get her to sit down with him again.

“You probably shouldn’t do that... I should really tell the doctor and Kevin that you’re awake...”

She twirls a strand of blonde hair nervously while he gets lost in how beautiful she is in that moment. There are so many things that feel inherently broken and wrong to him right now, yet this connection with her still appears to be somewhat in tact.

“Are you sore?”

He nods subtly as Gwen brushes the pads of her fingers along his forearm. He wants to close his eyes just to feel her touch more intensely, but he’s scared that he might fall back into that horrible, achromatic abyss he just emerged from.

“Do you remember any of it?”

Blake breathes carefully as he sifts through the scattered mess in his brain.

Is she talking about the plane crash? The island? About how he almost died?

Or maybe about what transpired between them?

He answers weakly.

“Some.”

His marine blues then lock silently on her in an attempt to read her further, however, a quick rap at the door leaves too much to be discussed. He notices the way she jumps and flushes pink when Kevin pokes his head in shortly thereafter.

“Hey Gwen, do you want to grab a sandwich at that deli across the street with me?”

“Uh… no thanks. Not right now. I mean, I think you better come in.”

Blake hears his lover stumble over his friend’s arrival, and while he cherishes Kevin like a brother, he suddenly feels inexplicably jealous and out of the loop. When did Gwen and Kevin become so tight? How long has he been out?

“What’s up?”

His assistant replies instantly and closes the gap between them, sensing Gwen’s distress. The businessman notes that his buddy’s gaze doesn’t leave the blonde until he is within a foot of his bed. It is then that realization washes over him in unsettled waves of blue.

“Oh! You woke up! Welcome back to the land of the living, pal!”

A wide grin materializes on Kevin’s face, which helps to counter Blake’s rising blood pressure. The injured man tries hard not to sound too put out by his circumstances when he quietly responds.

“Yeah, thanks… Glad to be here.”

Blake feels the warmth of Gwen’s palm skim across his knuckles, and takes satisfaction in the fact that Kevin’s eyes immediately stray to the sight. His friend has never crossed him, yet his veins are still burning with an array of uncomfortable emotions nonetheless. The air in the room seems to grow a little colder as Kevin steps back a bit to speak.

“I’ll get the doctor to come check you over. He’s been expecting that the sedation would wear off. If all goes well, you can likely be resting at home in another day or two...”

Blake shifts his hips slightly at the thought, sensing the pinch of sutures threaded in soft tissue in the process. He winces, but presses stubbornly forward.

“Tomorrow. I want out tomorrow, Kev.”

Gwen’s grip tightens as his assistant calmly raises his hands to temper him.

“Blake, you’ve been through a lot. Probably more than you understand right now. Maybe, it would be best if you sipped some water while this wonderful gal fills you in.”

The businessman can feel himself glaring, yet he can’t exactly pinpoint why he’s so angry. Perhaps, it’s because he’s lost all control, or because he’s been rendered completely useless. Or maybe it’s because he suddenly feels like he has nothing but heartache and pain to offer the woman sitting to his left. Regardless, he can only watch on sullenly as Kevin disappears from his view. When he turns his attention to Gwen, the fire is still smoldering in his irises.

“Here, try a little of this.”

She ignores his tempestuous mood in favor of passing him a small paper cup of partially melted ice chips. His large hand makes it look like a thimble when he tips it to his lips, which causes her to giggle softly under her breath.

“It’s not funny...”

He grunts with annoyance.

“It is.”

“Are you going to tell me what happened?”

Blake knows he’s being unfairly short with her, but his patience for being left out of his own story is wearing thin. An air of seriousness quickly overtakes her expression as she inhales slowly and moves her finger to purposively trace the plastic bed rail between them.

“You had some internal bleeding from the plane crash that made you black out on the way to my research station. I couldn’t wake you up from it and they had to do emergency surgery when we arrived here in Texas.”

The matter of fact words hit him bluntly.

He almost died. Again.

But somehow, he was saved.

“You also have broken ribs and are on antibiotics for an infection. The doctors put you in an induced coma for a couple of days to help with the healing. You’ve missed about three and half days in total.”

He remembers to swallow the smooth, glacial pellets lingering on his tongue before he chooses his next question.

“How did you get me off the island?”

The pretty scientist shrugs as if it’s all still a bit of a mystery to her.

“I found your phone, somehow got it to work and called Kevin. He had a rescue helicopter pick us up. He’s really been an amazing help, Blake.”

The businessman stares openly at her for a few seconds, admittedly awestruck. Without thinking, his fingers creep upwards toward her cheek.

She saved him.

He didn’t think he could trust anyone else with his life, but she proved him wrong.

He grazes her jawbone lightly, while trying his damndest to convey his gratitude for her in both his voice and touch.

“Thank you, Gwen. I’m really sorry.”

Her hands fidget sheepishly on the edge of his bed and he momentarily wonders if she’s thinking about their kiss on the cliff, or the way they made love amidst the warm, tropical rainstorm. Did she purposely omit those details just now to protect him, or because she’s embarrassed? He clears his throat once before broaching it carefully.

“Anything else I should know?”

Her chocolate eyes focus intently on his dark blues as the edge of her teeth press a gentle line into her bottom lip. She holds his gaze for an exaggerated second before she finally answers.

“No… not really.”

He hums in understanding and moves his palm to rub aimlessly at the nape of his neck. As much as it guts him to do so, he believes the time has come to set her free. What they did feels like some kind of forbidden dream to him now; a fantastical  occurrence that could never be rooted in reality. It would be foolish of him to try to hold on to that.

“You should go back to the island. Finish your work and get home to your family.”

“What? No, Blake. I want to make sure you’re ok...”

The blonde immediately protests, her expression mirroring that of a deer caught in headlights, but the businessman only smiles forlornly while pushing her concern aside.

“Gwen, I’ll be fine.”

She shakes her head at him angrily and huffs out a series of sharp, frustrated breaths. He can see that a million words are sitting on the tip of her tongue, but she opens and closes her mouth without a peep.

“Blake?”

His neck snaps towards the doorway and it dawns on him that he completely missed hearing Kevin and the doctor re-enter the room. His friend looks briefly at Gwen and then at him with puzzlement, but the big patient can’t muster an explanation with the man in white hovering.

“Mr. Shelton, it’s a pleasure. I’m Dr. Hamilton. If you don’t mind, I’d like to ask you a few questions and possibly poke at a few of your injuries. Your girlfriend is welcome to stay, but I know she’s barely moved from here and could likely use a bit of a break.”

Blake feels his facial muscles contort from bewildered to proud to regretful in a mere heartbeat. He really should know better than to fight this indescribable chemistry they have. He sighs heavily and steals a hopeful glance at Gwen.

“I’ll be at the hotel...”

Her voice is uncharacteristically neutral when she promptly responds to him and gathers up her bag to go. She brushes past Kevin swiftly and silently, exiting without so much as a second look at Blake. He never thought watching a woman leave like that would hurt him this much, but surprisingly, every inch of him stings and aches more intensely than when salty seawater infiltrates an open wound. In fact, he barely registers the doctor’s happy hum or mild prodding because he finds himself completely consumed by the loss.

He has to win her back.

*

“Blake, you’ve barely said a word since Gwen left the hospital. Are you sure you’re ready to be discharged today? No one would blink an eye if you stayed longer.”

He hears Kevin’s soft plea as he struggles to pull the hem of his new jeans down over his boot. He understands the man’s worry, he really does, but he also knows it would drive him crazy to sit and stew in this room for even an hour more.

“Two days of this has been plenty, Kev.”

“C’mon, you were in the ICU... You should be taking it easy…”

He stops fiddling with his pant leg long enough to stare at his assistant.

“Look... I love you, buddy, but I’ve had too much time to think in here and I need to fix this mess with Gwen. Do I need to remind you that the good doc and his machines have cleared me to leave?”

Kevin smiles resignedly as he peers through a nearby window at the bright, midday sky.

“She got the flowers and chocolate you sent if that helps at all. The hotel said she hasn’t checked out yet.”

Of course he’s relieved to hear that she’s not gone, but Blake can only shake his head with a dejected mutter.

“It’s not enough. It shouldn’t be enough.”

His friend inhales audibly before settling his stocky body back against a section of open wall.

“I think she’s giving you the space you need to recover. She seems prepared to wait for you, though.”

Blake tucks his head briefly to hide a fleeting wave of glee before using the opportunity to relentlessly press for more.

“I don’t need space, Kev. Have you talked to her? I mean, you two seemed like you were... fast friends.”

The short, dark haired man raises an eyebrow, which immediately makes Blake feel sort of childish for implying anything.

“Yes, she’s texted me about you. We’ve talked briefly… about you. It’s always been about you. From the instant I met her.”

The businessman’s face reddens as a host of jitters overtake his abdomen.

“I’m sorry. I never intended to put you in the middle of this. God, things just got complicated so quickly...”

Blake’s long digits weave their way through the sides of his freshly gelled hair as he begins to recall the intermingled existence of hope and despair, of pain and pleasure, of loneliness and romance, out there on the island. It was ecstasy and adversity like he’s never experienced. A raw, unsteady breath manages to escape him just as he feels his assistant’s hand reach forward to grip his shoulder.

“I know, pal. Time to right the ship.”

*

After signing a host of papers to ensure his freedom, Blake takes a few minutes to browse the shelves of the hospital gift shop while he waits for Kevin to pull up his car. He never would have considered himself sentimental before, but he finds his heart is curiously set on purchasing one, particular item. He eyes picture frames, balloons, stuffed elephants and magazines before his interest is finally peaked by a small carousel near the cash register.

There it is. That’s it.

He beams happily at the adorable, red frog as he plucks it out from amongst its fluffy friends. The older woman behind the counter starts to ring him up, while simultaneously wrapping the googly faced character in colored tissue paper.

“Never quite got why people love these silly things…”

She shrugs and laughs to herself as Blake watches her drop the plushy mass in a bag. He can’t help but feel slightly taken aback by her words.

“Me neither, I guess. My friend, though… she has a soft spot for them.”

He thinks the lady must sense the nerves brewing in his stomach because she quickly hushes him with a gentle tut.

“Ohhh, don’t listen to an old bird like me. It’s a perfect gift, I’m sure.”

He feels his lips curve upward at the corners as he slides her a bill.

“Thanks.”

The businessman shakes his head lightly at the weird encounter before making his way back to the main foyer. He immediately spots Kevin idling outside along the curb. It takes him longer than he would like to get to the vehicle and subsequently, climb into the empty passenger seat, but once he does, the pair drive off towards Gwen’s hotel, only a few blocks away.

“I’m sure you have everything under control, but text me if you get tired, or need a ride home… anything, ok?”

“Got it, boss.”

Blake smirks slyly at his buddy and taps him once on the knee. He then waits for Kevin to brake again before stepping stiffly out onto the sidewalk. The simple movement lets loose the butterflies that have been skirting around his gut for the last hour.

“1202!”

His assistant shouts after him, reminding him of Gwen’s room number.

“I know…”

His deep voice trails off with an anxious chuckle as he hobbles through the revolving lobby door and into the elevator. His palms then begin to slick and his mind go blank when the sliding steel shuts tightly in front of him. The oil man tries valiantly to use the sparse time he has to rehearse the speech he’s prepared for her, but the metal box stops at Gwen’s floor before he’s even ten words in.

It’s now or never.

The tall tycoon steals a large, gulping breath before finding the thick slab of wood separating him from the woman of his dreams. He knocks lightly.

It takes her too many seconds, but the door finally opens far enough for him to see her. He thinks she’s definitely surprised, understandably guarded and hopefully, even a bit optimistic about his visit. He’ll take it.

“Kevin didn’t tell me you were released.”

She addresses him bluntly and he automatically has to glance down at his platinum watch to check the time.

“I only signed the papers forty minutes ago. He brought me straight here.”

Her cocoa eyes drill into him and then drift off to an indiscriminate spot over his shoulder. He notices the way her body sags when she sighs in defeat.

“Would it be ok if we talked?”

He asks her, almost desperately, and she swings the door wider, allowing him entrance into her space. A jumble of thoughts tumble from her mouth before he has a chance to get any further.

“Blake, you had just woken up. I shouldn’t have been there. That’s clear to me now. I mean, it was unfair to both of us to have to deal with… everything like that.”

She avoids the finer details, but he knows exactly what she is referring to.

“Hey, no. Don’t do that to yourself. It wasn’t ideal, but I do remember most of what happened out there. I mean, between you and me.”

“You do?”

He spies the flowers he sent earlier, now neatly displayed on the desk, and an empty chocolate box, strewn haplessly aside. He smiles.

“Yes. It’s not like I was in a coma or anything...”

She frowns at his joke as he steps closer to her slender frame.

“The point is I don’t regret it, Gwen. I never should have made you think otherwise.”

His hands bravely reach out for hers and the instant their fingers intertwine, he feels all of her warmth touch his heart.

“Watching you walk out of my hospital room hurt more than any of these injuries ever could. I thought I was doing what was best for you, but I realize now that I want to be what’s best for you.”

He watches her next breath get caught in her throat as tears begin to encroach on her rich, mocha orbs. He slips the gift bag from his wrist to add levity to the moment.

“Here, I got you a memento of our trip.”

“Wha… Blake. You’re so crazy!”

The pretty scientist picks through the tissue paper in order to find the stuffed frog he bought and immediately starts to giggle. A dimpled grin grows on his stubbly face. He really adores that sound.

“I told you I remember.”

She crashes into him hard, kissing his lips and setting his body on fire. He’s never felt so alive. He savors every second of it until she pulls back with a cute little whimper.

“Sorry, I had to. I wasn’t sure I’d get to do that again.”

The businessman’s long arms instinctively engulf her in a soothing hug.

“Do it as much as you want, baby.”

Gwen’s nails stroke his sides slowly, making him murmur in contentment. However, he stops suddenly when he realizes that there is still a question lingering in her expression.

“What is it?”

“Nothing… I guess I just wonder where we go from here?”

He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear softly, pausing long enough to hopefully get the answer right.

“Gwen, I think I’d like to start from the beginning if that’s ok with you... I don’t ever want to be the one to cheat you of any of your fairytale moments because you truly deserve to be treated like a queen. I think I could love you. I believe that we could be each other’s happy ending…”

She shakes her head incredulously as she buries her nose in his crisp plaid.

“I thought you hated all that mushy stuff.”

Blake shrugs sheepishly.

“Someone might have changed my perspective.”

Her palms caress his cheeks affectionately and although leading with his heart is a relatively new concept to him, it feels daringly good to do so. She catches his gaze and whispers to him with a delicate smile.

“I like your idea. And I think I could love you, too, Blake. Very much.”

The lonely tycoon gave up on love a long time ago because his wasn’t enough to save his family. But now hers is encompassing him and washing over him so effortlessly that he can’t deny it’s healing powers. It’s slipping in through the cuts and scrapes left on his skin and filling all of the dark crevices left behind from his past. He guesses that eventually, it will smooth his nicks and dull his rocky edges, like the tide.

He quietly guides her to the sofa where they sit together, giddy and beaming. He fidgets as if it was a first date.

“Look, I can’t handle a night on the town just yet, but what do you say about getting some Italian takeout? Hang here a while?”

Gwen wraps herself around his left arm and rests her head on his broad shoulder.

“Sounds perfect.”

He twists his neck to place a kiss in her golden hair, and quickly finds himself musing about the fact that she currently smells of fresh coconut, brightly pedalled flowers and sunshine.

“You know, you really should finish up your research on that island. I would be happy to support you, of course... and my fellow frogs.”

She slaps him playfully before she shifts against him in serious contemplation.

“I will, I promise... Maybe we’ll even get the chance to go back there together someday...”

He hums at the unexpected thought, more or less in an attempt to expel the sudden jolt of nervous energy surging through his being.

“Sweetheart… whether it be this hotel, a hospital, or a desert island… there is no one I’d rather be stuck with.”

She raises an eyebrow and her eyes grow big as she peers temptingly at him.

“So that’s a yes?”

For her, it will always be a yes.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! Happy Holidays!


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